


faded, jaded (honey we've almost made it)

by conclusions (introductions)



Series: something like fate [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not-So-Chance Encounters, Soulmates, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, True Love, doyoung is a little grumpy, jaehyun is a matchmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductions/pseuds/conclusions
Summary: “This whole thing is your fault,” Jaehyun mumbles. “I wouldn’t have to dress up and pretend to like Doyoung if you hadn’t suggested resurrection.”“Please,” Ten says, flapping a hand, “I saved your ass, and you know it.”“I was suspended for six months.”Ten shrugs. “Choices and consequences."(or: jaehyun hates doyoung the second they meet, but the universe has other plans.)





	faded, jaded (honey we've almost made it)

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am back (inevitably) with another nct fic! this is a direct follow-up of hop out, cop out (baby you're a knockout). while it's not entirely necessary to have read it, i STRONGLY suggest reading it as jaehyun's predicament will make a lot more sense. actually everything will make more sense, now that i think about it. 
> 
> HUGE MASSIVE THANK YOU TO CHEL ([x](https://twitter.com/excelgesis)) who not only beta-read this beast but gave me so much love and support while i was writing. thank you. your markhyuck is coming soon. 
> 
> please enjoy!

After a series of long, exhausting fuck-ups, Jung Jaehyun finally gets his head back above the water.

The day that he finally is allowed back into work is also the day in which he gets the full capacity of his power back, and he wakes up feeling like a weight has been lifted off his chest.

By power, he means everything that separates him from the misery of human existence—perks, he thinks, since his job is shitty enough. It would be even shittier if he were human. Things like immunity to pain and to sickness, or the ability to fog over memories when he gets lazy and vanish into thin air. And, like he’d recently discovered, the ability to stuff a stored-away soul back into a dead body, restore it, and reunite a pair of soulmates he’d foolishly let get out-of-sync.

The upper management hadn’t liked that so much.

 _Dear Jaehyun,_ they’d emailed him around six months ago, _as much as we appreciate your efforts to reunite soulmates, we must remind you that there are very strict rules regarding resurrection. As such, we regret to inform you that we will be suspending your power until the end of February. There is no need to come into office, either—we will send all of your filing and paperwork to you, so you may work on it in the comfort of your own home._

Jaehyun had been _this close_ to emailing them back, demanding to know _how_ he was expected to a) synchronize the soulmates, b) not have one of them be a _literal corpse,_ and c) follow each and every rule to a T. It was impossible, and therefore, entirely _not his fault._

The last part of the email was clearly supposed to be reassuring, but it had come off so condescending that Jaehyun had ranted to Taeyong for an hour before drinking himself into a comatose state:

_Since you’ve been such a loyal, hardworking employee, we are inclined to let you back on after your six-month break. Please do not prove our decision to be a foolish one._

Just thinking about it now is making his face heat, and a couple lower-rank employees give him curious glances when they think he’s not looking. When they _do_ notice, however, that he can both see _and_ hear them, they dip into bows, offering greetings and _we missed you_ s.

Jaehyun finally gets to his office. It’s been cleaned since he’s last been here—someone’s straightened up his desk and dusted all of the shelves—but otherwise, it’s mostly untouched. The window behind him opens up to a fantastic view of the city and the river, glittering in the spring sun.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath and reaches out in his mind, a little rusty after six months. But sure enough, whatever they’d taken from him had been restored—he can feel the humming of life all around him, the quiver of the air molecules and the brilliant, turbulent storm of humanity on the streets below.

The universe recognizes him, too, and it reaches back, brushing gentle fingertips along the edge of his consciousness. It’s as close—and as close as he’s ever been—to love as he’ll get. The other employees are all ghosts, souls that have either been condemned to work here for eternity, or volunteers, bored by the monotony of the afterlife. And he’s got a couple of friends, of course he does, but he feels nothing more than familial affection towards them. Except Donghyuck, who, despite only meeting once, annoys the absolute shit out of him. On his particularly bitter days, Jaehyun wishes he’d never raised the kid from the dead in the first place. But then he sees how Mark looks at him, and feels instantly bad for thinking that.

 _Fine apart, better together,_ the old saying goes. He’s got a poster of it tacked above his neat little row of succulent plants on the bookshelf, the Hangul reading top to bottom in delicate black ink. And in this business, it’s true. He’s seen it with his own eyes—human hearts, while they can beat in solitude, glow under the warmth of love given and reciprocated.

He sighs, dropping his bag and coat into the armchair off to the side. He stares at the glass brick that sits at the edge of his desk, polished to a sheen, proudly announcing his name and title:

_Jung Jaehyun_

_Reincarnation and Soulmates_

It looks and sounds so fancy, he knows. Taeyong tells him this every time he stops by, ogling the cut characters of Jaehyun’s name. But in reality, the soulmate business is messy, and reincarnation is even messier. It’s mostly paperwork, and confusing to no end, a puzzle that keeps expanding and growing. Who is where, and when did they die? Where’s the person that they’re supposed to be with? How can Jaehyun pull tiny bits of thread to make them meet?

(This last one gets a little sketchy, because anything that can’t be passed off as a chance encounter technically has to be cleared by what feels like infinite levels of upper management. Which is why Jaehyun was powerless and on unpaid leave for _six months_ after all the meddling he did with Donghyuck and Mark).

(To be fair, though, that was also Taeyong’s fault. He may give people dreams, but they’re certainly not supposed to be _interactive, prophetic_ ones _)._

(Actually, while he’s here, Jaehyun might as well blame Ten also. A concerning number of things end up being either Ten’s idea, or just directly all his fault).

Jaehyun logs onto his computer, already feeling stressed. There’s an absurd number of emails in his inbox, and his filing folder is overflowing with matches he hadn’t been able to focus on for the last six months while he was stuck sorting and cataloging old pairs.

With a heavy sigh, he slumps into his chair and gets to work. This is familiar, and he’s able to fall into his old routine with ease, signing off on papers and passing them over to the ghosts to store in the endless vaults of the company.

Around noon, Taeyong texts him.

_Hey Jaehyun! hope your day is going okay~ do you want to meet up for lunch soon? i miss you T__T_

Jaehyun eyes the massive stack of filing work he still needs to get through. He doesn’t _technically_ need to eat, because he’s not quite human—but he figures he must’ve been, once, because there’s still a part of him that enjoys food. It’s kind of the same with how he doesn’t need to sleep, but does anyway, or the way he’ll still bundle up during winter despite not feeling cold.

There’s also the fact that he misses Taeyong. He’d only seen him a few times during the six-month period, mostly too busy or too depressed to muster up the energy to hang out.

_I can spare 20 minutes. Where are you?_

Taeyong’s reply is quick.

_Yay! I’m getting sandwiches :)_

Below, Taeyong’s attached an address about a five-minute walk from Jaehyun’s building, so he hauls himself out of his chair and heads towards the elevator.

“I’m going on break, Jun-hwi,” he tells the ghost at the reception desk, who is idly flicking through the mail. “I’ll be back in twenty.”

“I have something for you when you do,” Jun-hwi replies, holding up a manila envelope. “It’s heavy. Probably a lot of paperwork.”

Jaehyun groans. “Thanks,” he says anyway. “See you in a bit.” He hits the button for the lobby. It’s always a bit disorienting to walk through it—while humans can’t directly access their offices, they do share a physical location to anchor them. It’s bustling with people, their noses buried in phones and newspapers. Heels click on the polished floors, elevators ding, and murmured conversations rise from every corner. It’s noisy, busy, and utterly full—the three things Jaehyun genuinely dislikes about humanity.

“You do realize you’re being a little hypocritical, right?” Taeyong asks when Jaehyun tells him this five minutes later, crowded into a booth and bent over their food. “You were human once.”

“ _Once,_ ” Jaehyun emphasizes. “But not anymore.”

“No,” Taeyong says lightly. “Instead you’ve got fancy powers and you’re _in charge_ of humanity.”

“Just some of them,” Jaehyun says. “I just do what the paperwork tells me to.”

“Mm.” Taeyong takes another bite of his sandwich, and there’s a look in his eye that Jaehyun doesn’t know how to take apart. He’s not sure he wants to. “Anyways, how’s your first day back?”

“Same as always,” Jaehyun answers, picking at some lettuce. The employee had misheard him, so he’s stuck with a bunch of toppings he doesn’t really like. “The only sign that I’ve been gone for six months is that I have five times the amount of work I normally do.”

Taeyong makes a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

Jaehyun shifts, forever uncomfortable with the empathy. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

“Yeah, but you don’t deserve all that shit,” Taeyong says forcefully, like he really believes it. “It’s always been just you up there, working alone.” He gives Jaehyun another look. “I don’t like it.”

Jaehyun waves a hand. “It’s fine,” he repeats. “I have you. And I have the ghosts.”

“The ghosts aren’t real friends,” Taeyong reminds him, nearly petulant. “Without me, you’d be the saddest matchmaker in history.”

“I don’t _make_ matches,” Jaehyun replies, ignoring the rest of what Taeyong’s just said. “I _guide._ ”

“Details,” Taeyong insists. “Either way, it sounds like a lonely job.”

“Like yours is any less lonely,” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong’s face pinches the way it does when he’s upset. Jaehyun immediately regrets saying anything, but he has to make his point. “Making dreams for happy couples when all your relationships are doomed to fail.”

“It comes with the title,” Taeyong says miserably. “My grandma always tells me, ‘dream-maker, who must see the love between people but never have it.’”

“Your grandma is very wise,” Jaehyun comments. “She used to give me similar advice.”

Taeyong snorts. “She’s full of shit.” He takes another bite of his sandwich. “But at least I _wanted_ my job, Jaehyun. Yours was sort of just…” He trails off, and Jaehyun sees what he’s getting at. All Jaehyun has known—or at least, all he remembers—is doing this job. For how long, he can’t tell. But he’s been working with Taeyong’s family for generations, as the title of dream-maker was passed down from one to another.

“It’s me.” Jaehyun meets Taeyong’s eyes. “I am my job. And not much else.”

Taeyong’s face falls. “You’re completely missing my point. _I_ have friends, Jaehyun. More than one. You should meet them. They know all about you.”

Jaehyun sighs, and the sticky self-loathing threatens to rise up in his throat. “You know I can’t. I don’t age. Besides, nobody wants to be friends with an overworked hardass.”

“You’re not—“ Taeyong starts, frowning, but Jaehyun stands, cutting him short.

“I’m past my lunch break,” he says. “I have to get back to work. The higher-ups sent in a ton of paperwork, apparently.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says reluctantly, standing also. “I should probably go home. I still have some re-stocking to do.” He grimaces at Jaehyun’s curious look. “Punishment from my grandma for Mark’s dreams.”

 _You deserve it,_ Jaehyun thinks, but he doesn’t get as much satisfaction from it, because not very deep down, he knows it’s mostly Ten’s fault. Not Taeyong’s, or even his.

“I’ll text you again soon,” Taeyong promises as they’re about to part. “I miss you.” He opens his arms, and Jaehyun sighs again. He catches himself doing that a lot around Taeyong, who exasperates him to no end. But he’s also one of Jaehyun’s only friends, and he’s a damn good one at that, so Jaehyun steps forward and lets Taeyong squeeze him tightly.

“Don’t work too hard,” Taeyong calls over his shoulder as Jaehyun walks back towards his office.

“No promises,” Jaehyun replies, already thinking of the work that awaits him, and the routine he’ll fall back into once again.

 

* * *

 

The whole Donghyuck-Resurrection thing happened like this:

Ten had rifled through the books in his shop and had set one down in front of Jaehyun. _Warm Bodies,_ the title boasted in English.

“It’s about a zombie becoming a human again,” Ten told him, “through the power of love.”

Jaehyun had looked at it blankly. “Your point?”

“This is a salvageable situation,” Ten had insisted gravely. “They won’t be out-of-sync forever, Jaehyun, because you can _resurrect_ Lee Donghyuck.”

“Absolutely not,” Jaehyun had said, but clearly, Ten had a much better argument and Jaehyun was getting desperate, because he was watching Mark fall into routine and boredom, and people were getting on his ass about the kid’s _potential_ and the _loneliness_ of his heart. And okay, so maybe Jaehyun felt a little bad for him, watching him slowly isolate himself, pulling away from the group of nutjobs he called his friends. So he’d sorted through the vault, found Donghyuck’s soul, and, with the help of Taeyong (since Ten _technically_ couldn’t actively interfere or take sides) physically _dug up_ Donghyuck’s grave. Then, pulling on every ounce of magic he possessed, he both reanimated and restored his body. He could feel the universe protesting as he did it, but in the end, the pieces had fallen in place, and now they were off being in love together in Canada and posting pictures on Instagram.

But instead of being congratulated on his hard work, or his innovation or creativity, he’d been punished. Severely. And even though he’s back now, it _still_ feels like he’s being reprimanded, from the overwhelming amount of work he has to catch up on to the way the ghosts whisper behind his back.

So, lesson learned. The next time Jaehyun breaks the rules, he’s going to make damn sure nobody gets wind of it. And he’s staying away from zombies, and sad-looking boys with wide smiles.

 

* * *

 

The manila envelope Jun-hwi hands him, is, predictably, a file. But not any ordinary one—it’s one of those Very Important, Unnecessarily Complicated files, a thick stack of papers comprising of details upon details—past lives to habits to the places they’ve lived to their current family.

Jaehyun flips past the first two pages, which are all just confidentiality notices, warning him that if he shares any of the information with an unapproved source, he’ll get his ass kicked again.

As soon as he gets to the bio, though, Jaehyun can tell this file isn’t like any he’s encountered before. Firstly, because the whole stack of papers is on a _single person,_ rather than two—odd, because it’s hard to find soulmates if there’s only one person. Secondly, there’s sticky notes and bullet points _everywhere,_ like whoever passed this down to him pored through it on their own before deciding it was below their pay grade to do so.

 _Kim Dongyoung,_ the name at the top reads, _preferred name: Kim Doyoung._

That’s all fine and swell until Jaehyun reaches the bit about his date of birth and intended match, which is what brings him to the third and final reason as to why this case is already a nightmare:

_Born Daegu, South Korea, 1902. Age 23._

_Intended match: ????_

And, next to it, a handwritten note in black ink: _MUST FIND IMMEDIATELY. PERSONAL INTERFERENCE REQUIRED. SEE BACK PAGE FOR DETAILS._

“No,” Jaehyun groans, setting his head down on his desk. “No, no, no. I am _not_ getting involved. I _refuse_ to get involved. I hate humans. I hate messy situations. I’m going to quit—“

His computer chimes with an email.

 _Dear Jaehyun,_ it starts. _We realize you may have read the details on Kim Doyoung’s file, and we’re reaching out in hopes of clarifying the situation a little more._

“What’s there to explain?” Jaehyun asks aloud, irritated. “You want _me_ to go down there and _interfere,_ despite you kicking my ass last time I did that.”

_Following the last incident regarding Lee Donghyuck and Lee Mark, we wish to offer some more guidance to avoid any more issues._

It’s like the email is answering him as he goes along. Not that he’s particularly surprised; upper management is annoyingly perceptive sometimes, bordering on prophetic. Not that a prophetic management team would surprise Jaehyun either. He finds soulmates for a living.

He keeps reading.

_First off, Kim Doyoung has been missing his soulmate for the last 117 years. He has not aged since his 23rd birthday. You will find more details regarding this on the back page, but essentially, we have been wiping his memory every thirty-five years or so and starting him afresh so he doesn’t notice this._

“Of course you have,” Jaehyun mutters. “Go ahead and break your own rules. It’s fine.”

_This continued resetting, as you can imagine, has caused a number of knots in the universal thread, and as we’re nearing the hard 120-year limit, we have re-opened the case in an attempt to find him his soulmate once and for all. As you are the most capable department manager we’ve ever had, we are confident that you will be able to handle the situation quickly, neatly, and efficiently._

“‘Do let us know if you have any questions,’ blah, blah, blah,” Jaehyun finishes aloud, and closes the email. There’s a gross, creeping feeling in his stomach as he flips to the back page, and his head throbs with an oncoming headache—which has always amused him, because of all the ailments he’s immune to, headaches are the only thing that he gets. Ironic, since this job is absurdly headache-inducing.

The back page confirms everything he’d already read, and expands on it a little bit. The majority of the file, he finds, is an incredibly detailed account of all of Doyoung’s past lives (can he even call them that, since Doyoung’s technically never been resurrected?) as well as a partially-done rundown of his current situation. Single, gay, retail worker, living with two others in downtown Seoul. Jaehyun’s seen a hundred guys like him before.

What’s most helpful turns out to be the handwritten notes. The person before him has narrowed down potential soulmates to his friends, which means Jaehyun doesn’t need to rifle through the entire population of single, age-appropriate homosexual men in South Korea (more than you’d think) and only needs to vet the guys he’s close with. Underneath it all, the person’s written _HE’S CLOSER THAN WE THINK…BUT WHERE?_ in all caps. Which is a little ominous, Jaehyun thinks, for humanity’s supposed most-romantic concept.

“Kim Doyoung,” Jaehyun says aloud, flipping back to the first page. Immortal, unmatched, and totally unaware of it. Very human. But Jaehyun can (unfortunately) see why this file in particular requires him to go down in person—there’s no way to know, otherwise, which of Doyoung’s friends could be a match. Besides, it’s not like Jaehyun’s looking for The Soulmate (few, if any, are lucky enough to get one of those) but rather just… _a_ soulmate. Lower-case, singular soulmate. He’ll find someone, set it up, pull some strings—and voila, job done, upper management forgives him, and he goes back to the same-old, same-old.

Easy enough.

 

* * *

 

“They picked _you?_ ” Ten asks as soon as Jaehyun’s done briefing him, eyebrows shooting up. “You _hate_ regular people. And besides, you don’t know how to _be_ a regular person.”

“I remember why I never talk to you,” Jaehyun grumbles. “You’re an asshole.”

“I have to be honest or I’ll _die,_ ” Ten reminds him. “In case you forgot.”

Jaehyun huffs. “You do a good enough job twisting the truth in every other case. Why can’t you do it here, too?”

Ten shrugs. “More fun.”

“God, how does Johnny put up with you?”

Ten’s smile turns a little wicked, and Jaehyun regrets coming to Ten’s shop even more. Ten’s supposed to be unbiased, wise, honest and helpful, answering any and all questions that are brought to him.

(Usually, it’s questions from people confused by their matches, but lately there’s been a suspicious number of half-closeted gay kids with massive crushes coming through here).

The emphasis here is on _supposed._ In reality, Ten is none of these things, and instead manages to be irritatingly cryptic, annoyingly witty, and seemingly always on the side that isn’t Jaehyun’s. _And_ he’s dating someone, which is most _definitely_ against the rules. Ten isn’t human; Johnny is. And Jaehyun hasn’t told Ten this, yet, but Johnny’s got a soulmate he’s destined to meet in a couple years, a pretty girl in America, where he’ll inevitably move back to when he realizes South Korea offers him nothing but empty promises. Like the ones he makes with Ten.

“The reason,” Jaehyun huffs after Ten’s done cackling to himself, “I came to see you is because I need an answer.”

Ten puts his chin in his hands. “You know I can’t help you too much, because you don’t have a soulmate.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “I like how you follow the rules when it’s _convenient.”_

Ten laughs again. “I don’t know what you expected from me.”

“Sanity,” Jaehyun deadpans. “Or at least a little bit of cooperation.”

“Well, here I am,” Ten says, amused, “ready to cooperate.”

“How can I meet Kim Doyoung?” Jaehyun asks, trying not to cringe when Ten’s smile grows.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Ten says. “Ask Taeyong. They’ve known each other since high school.”

Jaehyun can’t quite hide his surprise in time. “You’re _kidding_ me. There’s no way it’s that easy.”

“The universe works in funny ways, Jaehyun,” Ten says. “But you should know that by now, shouldn’t you?”

 

* * *

 

He calls Taeyong that night once he gets back to his apartment. The landlord’s sent him an email about rent, and Jaehyun pays it while he waits for Taeyong to pick up. He doesn’t technically _make_ any money, but he knows he has it, somehow—probably a perk for being employed by intangible deities in control of the universal threads of fate—so he’s never had to worry about it. He has two credit cards under the name _Jung Jaehyun_ and no matter how much he spends, he pays the bills at the end of the month and there’s no problem. Which is nice, because Jaehyun likes his fancy Gangnam penthouse and his expensive clothing and buying Taeyong nice dinners twice a month as thanks for putting up with him.

“Hey,” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun winces at the background noise that filters through. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Jaehyun asks, putting Taeyong on speakerphone as people start to shout. “A stadium? The train station?”

“Home,” Taeyong says. “It’s dinnertime, so you know how it gets.”

Jaehyun does absolutely _not_ know how it gets. He’s only ever eaten with one other person. Taeyong, on the other hand, who lives with his parents, a younger sister, his grandma, an aunt, uncle, and two cousins—as well as the occasional boyfriend or girlfriend—is constantly surrounded by people and noise. Jaehyun doesn’t know how he does it.

“Well, I was just wondering something,” Jaehyun starts, and shifts awkwardly on the sofa. “I was talking to Ten, earlier, about this file.”

“Uh-huh,” Taeyong says, slightly distracted. “Seoyoung-ah, please _don’t_ do that, Auntie _just_ set the table—”

“Taeyong.”

“Right, I’m listening.”

“Any _way,_ ” Jaehyun continues, “he said you know, uh, Kim Doyoung.”

“Yeah, you’ve—” Taeyong stops short. “ _Wait_ a second. Kim Doyoung? Like Kim Doyoung, who I’ve known for a decade?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jaehyun says, panicking a bit at the note of suspicion that creeps into Taeyong’s voice. “I just…I need to meet him. For work stuff.”

“ _Work stuff,_ ” Taeyong says slowly. “And that would be…?”

 _Well, he’s immortal and needs a soulmate before he’s erased from the universe entirely,_ Jaehyun thinks, and immediately decides it would be _very bad_ if Taeyong were to know this, given Taeyong’s tendency to a) argue, b) panic, and c) guilt Jaehyun into doing something different. Which can’t happen, if Jaehyun wants to keep his job, powers, and sanity.

“We’re trying something new regarding…soulmate assignment,” Jaehyun lies, scrambling. “Which is testing to see if it makes more sense to meet hard-to-assign cases in person to get a better feel for their personality.”

“Oh,” Taeyong says, completely buying it and thus making Jaehyun feel terrible. “Really? That’s it? Nothing worrying, or nefarious?”

“No, of course not,” Jaehyun says guiltily. “In any case, Doyoung already has a soulmate, which is why they’re using him as a test-run. So I don’t fuck up.”

It’s the self-deprecation, Jaehyun thinks, that really sells it, because Taeyong cheerfully rattles off Doyoung’s work schedule. “I could introduce you two, if you wanted,” Taeyong says. “Doyoung’s currently single, so I could set it up from that angle, if you want?”

“No no no,” Jaehyun says, hands sweating a little, “no, uh, that’s fine.”

“Then I’ll tell him you just moved from Busan and you’re really cool,” Taeyong offers. “How about that?”

“Works for me,” Jaehyun answers, clearing his throat so he doesn’t sound like he’s choking, which he is, just a little.

“I think it’s good that they’re sending you,” Taeyong muses. “You’ve always been so uppity when it comes to regular people. Maybe Doyoung will change your mind.”

 _Highly doubt it,_ Jaehyun thinks dubiously, but aloud, he says, “maybe.”

“Great!” Taeyong chirps. Someone on the other side shouts his name, and Jaehyun can hear the words _dinner_ and _grandmother._ “Hey, I have to go, but I’ll text you details soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehyun answers, settling back into the couch. “Sounds good.”

When Taeyong’s hung up, Jaehyun tosses his phone away from him and sighs deeply, wondering how the hell he got through that conversation, and just exactly how he’s supposed to keep up the lie. Taeyong, for as long as they’d been friends, has been the only one Jaehyun’s told the _whole_ truth to, without cutting any corners. This is the first time that he’d lied to him, _really_ lied to him—and it feels awful.

Jaehyun eyes Kim Doyoung’s file, sitting innocently on the kitchen counter. “You better be worth it, Kim Doyoung,” Jaehyun mutters, “or else.”

 

* * *

 

Taeyong texts him the next morning, saying that Doyoung’s free Thursday, and there’s a new sushi place that they’ve both wanted to go to for a while. So on Thursday around six, Jaehyun packs up at work, tucks Doyoung’s file into his backpack and takes a deep breath. This is the first time in ages, it feels like, that he’s going to interact with another human being outside of Taeyong. And not just any random person, either—Kim Doyoung will make or break his employment here. So as silly, stupid, or absurd as it may be, Jaehyun can’t afford to screw this up.

Taeyong meets him out front of work, waving when he spots Jaehyun. “Can you drive?” He asks, falling into step with Jaehyun. “I took the bus.”

“No, you can walk,” Jaehyun deadpans, pulling open the door to the parking garage and letting Taeyong in. “Because I’m a terrible friend.”

“You might _tell_ yourself that,” Taeyong says, voice echoing as they make their way towards Jaehyun’s car, “but I know the _truth.”_

“And it’s that I’m a terrible friend but a good driver,” Jaehyun answers, unlocking his car. Taeyong slides into the passenger seat, and Jaehyun gets into the driver’s side. The engine hums as he starts the car, and Taeyong types an address into his map app before sticking his phone in the cup holder.

Conversation flows easily between the two of them while Jaehyun drives them to the sushi restaurant. Taeyong talks about work—making dreams is infinitely more interesting than the stories Jaehyun has about doing paperwork—and his family, and Jaehyun listens, content to let Taeyong talk.

When Jaehyun parks, he hesitates, a hollow, fluttery feeling starting in the base of his throat and making his breath speed. Taeyong, who’d been about to get out, stops, looking at Jaehyun with a mixture of worry and confusion. “Jaehyun?” He asks, lightly touching Jaehyun’s wrist.

“It’s nothing,” Jaehyun says as convincingly as he can. “It’s just…it’s been a little while since I’ve talked to a person that isn’t you.”

Taeyong’s face softens, and Jaehyun hates the sympathy that flashes across it. “Hey—”

“I’m not like either of you,” Jaehyun reminds Taeyong, who purses his lips. “I’m not human. All the… _stuff_ you go through, I don’t.”

The look on Taeyong’s face is mixed, but Jaehyun sort of gets the sense that Taeyong thinks he’s full of shit. Which is interesting, because that feeling is normally reserved for Ten, who not only _thinks_ Jaehyun’s full of shit, but says it aloud.

“Doyoung is really, really great,” Taeyong assures him. “He’s one of my closest friends. You guys will get along fantastically, I can feel it. Just don’t let—don’t let the beginning phase you. It’s always the hardest part.”

“You sound like your grandma,” Jaehyun tells Taeyong, who snorts and gets out of the car. Jaehyun takes another second to breathe deeply, a little troubled by the weird, amorphous anxiety in his stomach, the root of which he can’t quite place. He follows Taeyong down the street, attempting to center himself.

The sushi restaurant catches him slightly off-guard—it’s small and crowded inside, nothing like the places he usually eats at.

“Oh, he’s already here!” Taeyong says, delighted, pointing towards a booth in the corner where a dark-haired man sits, back facing them.

Doyoung is looking over a menu when they approach the table, and the first thing Jaehyun notices about him is his hands, which are long-fingered and pale and sporting a pretty ridiculous number of rings. But Doyoung is dressed like the kind of person that would wear too many rings—oversize checkered cardigan, ripped jeans, an expensive-looking t-shirt, and one of those baseball caps that says something in English on the front. In Doyoung’s case, it says _pray for me._ Which doesn’t make any sense, causing Jaehyun to wonder if Doyoung even _knows_ English.

Doyoung jumps to his feet when he sees Taeyong, pulling him into a hug. He’s saying something, and laughing, and then he’s turning to Jaehyun, who gets the full effect of his face at last. He’s—well, he’s not _ugly,_ thank god, but he’s not _conventionally_ attractive either, like all the idols or actors. There’s something about his face that makes Jaehyun feel a bit off-center, almost, from the graceful slant of his eyes to the fine lines of his nose and jaw. He’s—he looks _delicate,_ sort of, but Jaehyun can already sense (with a relative amount of annoyance) that Doyoung is really anything but.

“—Jung Jaehyun, another really close friend,” Taeyong finishes, and Jaehyun pulls himself back into the conversation with a neutral smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jaehyun says, sticking out his hand. “Taeyong’s talked about you a little.”

“Hopefully all good things,” Doyoung replies, mouth quirking. “We bicker a lot.”

 _Ha ha,_ Jaehyun thinks sarcastically to himself as Doyoung shakes his hand. _‘Hopefully all good things’? Very original._

“Let’s sit,” Taeyong encourages, nudging Jaehyun into the booth across from Doyoung. “Did you order yet, Doyoungie?”

“Not yet,” Doyoung replies. “I was waiting for you two.”

Jaehyun picks up the menu without much interest. The last time he’d eaten sushi from a place like this, it’d been like sand on his tongue.

“So, Jaehyun-ssi, what do you do?” Doyoung asks, and Jaehyun purses his lips, panicking a bit as he scrambles for a normal-sounding career.

“He works in, uh, data software,” Taeyong cuts in, sounding as anxious as Jaehyun feels.

“It’s a big company,” Jaehyun adds, which is true—it’s technically global. Not that he’s going to explain any of that to _Doyoung._ “I work with a lot of people. Connections, stuff like that.”

“Interesting,” Doyoung says, though something about his tone suggests it’s anything but. “Data. And a big company.” He eyes Jaehyun for a second longer, who immediately feels irritation, prickly and hot, rising up in his chest.

He smiles wider, tamping it down.

“What’s your opinion, then, on companies exploiting customers for their personal data?” Doyoung asks, and Jaehyun can’t help but feel like it’s a test. Not that he particularly _cares_ about exploitation or whatever Doyoung’s going on about—he doesn’t have the time, first off, and it’s absolutely outside of anything Jaehyun cares about.

“I don’t really have an opinion,” Jaehyun answers breezily. “It’s not really my problem.”

Doyoung’s eyes narrow. “Really.”

“Ah, the waiter,” Taeyong says desperately, stopping them both short. “Who’s ready to order?”

Lunch is tense. Jaehyun picks at his sushi, trying not to be too obvious with his distaste. But Doyoung gives him a scathing look as the plates are taken away, one that tells Jaehyun he wasn’t as subtle as he hoped. Conversation, too, is stiff, and cold—Doyoung refuses to open up to Jaehyun in the slightest, and as a result, Jaehyun grows more and more irritated, already fed up with his passive-aggressive nonsense and frosty replies.

Taeyong’s phone rings as the check comes, and he grabs it with too much relief. “I have to take this,” he says, already standing. “It’s my mom, you know how she is.”

Jaehyun and Doyoung both shoot him pleading looks—he’s the only reason they’re still sitting here, and they both know it, but Taeyong practically runs off.

“Well,” Jaehyun says, trying to find it in him to smile and failing, “it was nice to meet you.”

Doyoung stares at him. “I still don’t know what your problem is with me.”

Jaehyun’s hands go ice-cold. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

“No,” Doyoung agrees mildly, though he’s glaring at Jaehyun again. “You just think you’re better than everyone else.”

“And you like to make assumptions with zero information,” Jaehyun snips back, and Doyoung’s mouth curls in a sneer.

“I could say the same,” he replies, and gets to his feet. “Say bye to Taeyong for me. I’m leaving before I start shouting.”

And just like that, Doyoung is gone.

Jaehyun pays and leaves before Taeyong comes back, embarrassed and angry and prickling all over with the heat of his failure.

 _Now what,_ he thinks to himself, dropping all of his stuff as soon as he steps into the house. _Doyoung is never going to talk to me again, much less introduce me to his friends._

Jaehyun’s skin feels itchy, and his frustration only builds, pricking at his eyes.

He hasn’t gone for a run in a long time, but there’s no groan of unused muscles and his breath remains steady—a bonus, he supposes, from being immortal. The air is cold on his cheeks, but it helps with the angry cocktail of emotion in his chest, allowing him to focus on moving forward. The sun is setting over the tops of the buildings, and Seoul is cast in shimmering light, reflecting off windows and cars, turning everything gold.

 _I hate people,_ Jaehyun thinks, taking a left at a stoplight. _They make no sense._ Honestly. What’s stopping the whole population of humanity from being straightforward? So many more problems would get solved if everyone was just… _simpler._

Jaehyun stops by a street musician, wiping sweat from his forehead and taking a deep breath. He feels calmer now, slightly, and already his mind is turning to how he can remedy the situation. He needs to turn it around, somehow—for pride, for ego, but mostly to prove to everyone that he’s  _not_ incompetent.

He has to fix this. And he’ll do whatever it takes.

 

* * *

 

Jaehyun is sitting at his desk feeling bad for himself when Taeyong calls.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong starts, and Jaehyun gets a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach when he hears Taeyong’s tone. “Doyoung told me…about what happened.”

Jaehyun winces. “It was a disaster, Taeyong. You can say it. God, I wish I didn’t have to deal with humans. I can never—you guys make _no sense._ Literally none.”

“I’m not getting into this with you,” Taeyong says forcefully, and Jaehyun snaps his mouth shut, reverting back to self-pity as his irritation fades. “Look, I know you need info on Doyoung for your job.”

“I do,” Jaehyun sighs. “Even though I never want to see his face ever again.”

“Okay, listen,” Taeyong says, like he’s talking to a four-year-old, “I don’t want to get involved. I don’t even want to _hear_ about it, because you’re both my best friends and it breaks my heart that you don’t get along.”

A stab of some bitter emotion goes through Jaehyun’s chest. “Taeyong—”

“Doyoung’s roommate Taeil is having some people over to their apartment tomorrow night,” Taeyong continues, ignoring Jaehyun. “If you _really_ want a second chance, you should go. I know you’re not one for parties, but…” Taeyong stops here, apparently gathering his thoughts. “Well, I don’t know. You know more about coincidence and chance than I do. But if you show up, tell Taeil that I called you because I’m drunk, or something, and they’ll let you in.”

Jaehyun collects himself, clearing his throat before he answers. He can tell Taeyong really _does_ want them to get along, which makes him feel even guiltier because he knows there’s no chance of that actually happening, ever. But he still appreciates Taeyong’s effort. “Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong mutters. “Just—don’t fuck it up again, alright? Doyoungie is a really, really nice guy. You just have to give him a minute.”

 _Uh-huh,_ Jaehyun thinks dubiously, thinking of the way Doyoung had glared at him with the derision and heat of a thousand suns. “I’ll try,” he manages, and Taeyong makes a satisfied noise.

“Good,” Taeyong says. “Okay, I have to go. Ten is having a crisis.”

“When is he not?” Jaehyun asks, and Taeyong laughs. “He’s terrible at his job.”

“It’s Johnny-related, too, so it’s even worse,” Taeyong explains, and Jaehyun rolls his eyes.

“Of course it is.”

Taeyong laughs again. “I’ll talk to you later, alright? Don’t work too hard.”

“Mm,” Jaehyun says, eyeing the massive stack of papers in front of him and his overflowing email inbox. “I’ll try. Bye, Taeyong.”

“See you tomorrow,” Taeyong replies, and the line goes dead.

Jaehyun tosses his phone to the side and sets his forehead down on his desk, anxious as he comes to terms with the fact that he’ll have to go to a _party._ God, he doesn’t even _know_ Doyoung yet and he’s already going to such lengths for him.

He hates this job. He hates his bosses. And he really, really hates people. Especially Doyoung.

His computer chimes with another email, and Jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut, biting back frustration and the nearly-overwhelming desire to slam his head against the edge of the desk.

The next two days pass in a blur. Jaehyun is swamped with work, and ghosts breeze in and out of his office nonstop, delivering more files and messages. He answers so many emails that his head starts to swim, and his work phone rings about five times an hour with issues he needs to fix. _He’s moving to Busan, what do we do. She’s going to marry another man and be miserable. I think I may have accidentally set him up with her twin brother._

By the time Jaehyun finally leaves the office, the sun has long set, nothing but a dusty glow on the horizon as he makes his way towards the parking garage. A headache pounds behind his eyes, and he’s so tired that he can physically _feel_ it. He remembers the party all at once, and his stomach knots immediately at the thought of it. He unlocks his phone, thumb hovering over the little _call_ icon next to Taeyong’s name. A second later, he thinks better of it. Taeyong has already done so much—he takes a ton of Jaehyun’s shit on a daily basis, and doesn’t deserve any more.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s never been to a party in his _life._ He’s seen movies, obviously, and assumes this isn’t going to be a college-level rager, or anything, but it’s still a lot of people. And Doyoung, who he somehow needs to get on his good side.

So against literally _all_ of his better judgement, he calls Ten.

Well, he calls Johnny, because Johnny is a little nicer than his boyfriend.

“Hi, Jaehyun-ah,” Johnny greets, obviously surprised. “What’s up?”

“I need, uh, some help,” Jaehyun says awkwardly. “And I was wondering if you and Ten could help.”

“WHO IS IT?” Ten shouts in the background, so loud the speaker crackles.

Both Johnny and Jaehyun wince.

“Babe, that was right in my ear,” Johnny says patiently. “It’s Jaehyun. He wants our help.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Ten says, and Jaehyun can hear the amused tilt of his voice when he says the honorific. Jaehyun, too, smiles—it’s always been funny to have to call Johnny _hyung,_ since both Ten and him are technically much, much older. Not that Johnny can _ever_ know that, though. To him, Ten works in an antiques store and Jaehyun has a fancy business job, and they’re both younger.

“Put him on speaker,” Ten continues. “Jaehyunnie never asks for help. This better be good, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun sends a brief prayer out to the universe, which tugs on him in sympathy. _Please go easy on me,_ he asks, desperate. _This is hard enough already._

“I’m going to a party,” Jaehyun says quickly. Might as well get that out there, first and foremost.

Ten makes a choking sound. “You’re _what?_ You have _friends_ that throw parties now? When did that happen? Can I come?”

“No,” Jaehyun says. “You can’t. This is about Doyoung.”

That clicks for Ten. “ _Oh,_ ” he says. “Makes sense.”

“Who’s Doyoung?” Johnny asks, curious.

Ten answers before Jaehyun can. “This guy that Jaehyun’s trying to hook up with,” he says casually.

Johnny is silent for a moment, then, “really? You never—you never seemed like the type.”

“Johnny,” Ten chastises. “Let’s not judge him.”

Jaehyun is touched.

Then Ten continues, “especially since this is the first time he’ll be interacting with a new human for about a decade.”

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

“Okay, now that you’re done insulting me,” Jaehyun says, slightly irritated, “I’m going to a party. And I, uh, well.” He trails off here, unsure how to say it.

 _I’ve never been to a party before_ hangs in the air, and Ten, of course, picks up on it.

Jaehyun holds his breath, waiting for Ten to pass judgement. This could go terribly, or just fine—Ten is more than capable of being kind, Jaehyun knows, but he just likes being sassy more.

“Johnny’s sitting right here,” Ten says at last, and it’s almost sympathetic, “so I’m feeling extra nice.” What do you need?”

Jaehyun releases his breath. _Thank you, universe, for Johnny Seo._ Jaehyun may disagree with their relationship, but he likes who Ten is when he’s around Johnny. Like a soft-edged version of himself.

“I need help picking out something to wear,” Jaehyun says, feeling infinitely relieved. “Please help me.”

“I’m ready,” Johnny says immediately, excited. “You’re nearly my height. I have a bunch of stuff that would fit you.”

“He means you should come over,” Ten says, and Jaehyun can hear the wry affection in his voice. “See you in fifteen.”

Jaehyun doesn’t even manage a _thank you_ before Ten hangs up. He assumes Ten knows, though, if the look on his face when he lets Jaehyun into Johnny’s apartment is any indication. Jaehyun tries to thank him aloud, too, but Ten waves him off.

“You know how it works,” Ten reminds him as he ushers Jaehyun towards Johnny’s room, “you ask for help, and you’ll receive it.”

Johnny, who’s elbow-deep in his clothes, grins at Jaehyun when he walks in. “Jaehyun! Glad you’re here.”

Jaehyun lets Johnny’s easy charisma wash over him, soothing some of the gnarled anxiety in his stomach. “Hi, hyung,” he says. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

Johnny waves him off, the motion eerily familiar to Ten’s. “Anytime. What time is this party?”

Jaehyun shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. “ He looks over to Ten. “What time do these things start?”

“How old is the oldest host?” Ten asks.

“Taeil,” Jaehyun offers.

Johnny frowns. “I don’t think that’s a—”

“That’s because Taeil’s a _name,_ stupid,” Ten says, without any real heat. But Jaehyun can sense things shifting for Ten, threads of the universe tugging and pulling to bring him the answer.

Ten’s expression clears. “Show up around nine-thirty, and you’ll be good. Everyone’s still in their twenties, but it’s not a college party.”

“Will there be wine?” Jaehyun asks as Johnny starts to throw clothes in his direction. “I don’t really like anything else.”

“Uh, depends on how many people will be there,” Ten says, and scans Jaehyun’s face for a moment. “You’re really committing to this, aren’t you?”

 _I need to save my job,_ Jaehyun thinks desperately, and hopes it shows. Johnny throws something silver and metallic Jaehyun’s way, and it clinks despondently against the buttons on his suit jacket.

“You need a shot,” Ten decides, making for the kitchen. “Or two. Actually, I think three’s a nice, good number for you.”

“Try those on,” Johnny says at the same time. “Long sleeve under the button-down. And leave it open.”

Jaehyun nods, slightly overwhelmed, and shuffles into the bathroom. The light blinds him for a moment, and he dumps the pile of clothing on the counter, bracing his hands on the edge of it and looking into the mirror. His reflection stares back. He looks like he’s on the edge of a hysterical breakdown.

“Do _not,_ Jung Jaehyun,” he says quietly, pointing at his reflection. “No breakdowns. You’re above that. You’re above this. Kim Doyoung is not worth it.”

“Jaehyun?” Ten asks, knocking once before he barges in, a bottle of soju tucked under one arm and a couple of shot glasses in his free hand. “Are you okay?”

Jaehyun casts a furtive look behind him, where Johnny is still rifling through the closet. “Yes,” he says, gritting his teeth. “I’m fine.”

Ten gives him a flat, disbelieving look before he closes the door behind him, setting the glasses and the soju down on the counter. “Breathe,” Ten tells him firmly, and Jaehyun sucks in a deep breath. And then another one, just in case. “You’re going to be okay. They wouldn’t have given you this job if they didn’t think you could do it.”

“I know,” Jaehyun mutters. “I just… _humans._ I don’t…I can’t deal with them.”

Ten hums, but doesn’t comment. He opens the soju.

“You know,” Ten says conversationally as he pours, “I actually gave Mark advice in a bathroom once, too. But he was really drunk. And also in love.” He hands Jaehyun a drink. “I digress.”

“This whole thing is your fault,” Jaehyun mumbles. “I wouldn’t have to dress up and pretend to like Doyoung if you hadn’t suggested _resurrection._ ”

“Please,” Ten says, flapping a hand, “I saved your ass, and you know it.”

“I was suspended for six months.”

Ten shrugs. “Choices and consequences. But hey, Mark Facetimed me last week and he let Donghyuck kiss him goodbye _on camera._ ” Ten swoons a little bit. “Neither of them were weird about it. Doesn’t that make you at least a _little_ happy to hear, how good they’re doing?”

Some part of Jaehyun does go warm at the news, but he absolutely will _not_ tell Ten that. “Still your fault.”

“Take your fucking shot then,” Ten deadpans, ever-dramatic, “you and your stone-cold heart.”

“I will,” Jaehyun says, prim, and downs the soju in one go.

It’s pretty terrible, but he’s proud to see that not a muscle in his face moves in reaction to the taste or the way it burns his sinuses a little.

Ten pours him one more, and then leaves Jaehyun to get changed. The top half is fine—definitely not his style, for sure, but still doable—and then he sees the _pants._

“Johnny, I don’t think these are going to fit me,” Jaehyun calls out through the door, holding the jeans up to the light. “I think these are Ten’s.”

“No, they’re mine,” Johnny says, unconcerned, “and they’ll stretch. They’re supposed to make your ass look good. They’re not as tight as you think.”

Jaehyun seriously doubts that, but he trusts Johnny more than he trusts just about anyone so he puts the stupid jeans on. They _do_ fit, miraculously, but they’re tighter than anything Jaehyun has ever worn in his life. He takes an experimental step, and then opens the door to get Johnny and Ten’s opinion.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Johnny says triumphantly, fist-pumping. Ten, seated on the bed, whistles in appreciation through a mouthful of rice, which he’s eating out of a mug. “Good job, Johnny Seo.”

Ten pats him on the butt with the non-mug hand. “You did great, babe.”

Johnny beams. “You look awesome, Jaehyun. Did you see yourself yet?”

“No,” Jaehyun says. “Do I—should I?” He wears the same thing every day, so he’s never really _needed_ to stop and inspect his reflection.

“Absolutely,” Ten says, then pauses. “Wait, wait, his hair.” He springs off the bed, tossing his mug of rice at Johnny, who catches it with practiced ease.

Jaehyun takes a nervous step back, but Ten is efficient and surprisingly gentle. He runs a hand through Jaehyun’s hair, and then spends a few more seconds finger-combing it until he makes a satisfied noise.

“Much better, right?” He says this to Johnny, who nods in approval.

Ten gently grabs Jaehyun’s shoulders and spins him so he’s facing the full-length mirror on Johnny’s door. It takes a second for Jaehyun’s mind to process what he’s seeing. There’s Ten, peering excitedly over the shoulder of someone who resembles Jaehyun—if he were a _real_ twenty-three-year-old, and he worked somewhere like a record store or a funky startup or maybe an art gallery. It’s impressive and uncomfortable all at once;, he teeters towards extreme self-consciousness as he fidgets with the tops of the pants, which leave essentially nothing to the imagination.

This is, Jaehyun thinks, the first time he’s actively seen himself in something that _isn’t_ a suit. He’s not sure how he feels about it.

“I wear exclusively business casual for a reason,” Jaehyun says, pulling the bottom of the shirt down in an attempt for more modesty. “This is—”

“Do you not like it?” Johnny asks, frowning. “I can get you something different, if you want.”

Jaehyun instantly feels guilty, but Ten jumps in. “Do _not,_ hyung. Jaehyun can do this.” Ten turns to Jaehyun, setting his hands on his shoulders. Jaehyun schools his expression into something neutral and cool, hoping that Ten can’t see past it.

“You can do this,” Ten says. “You have more confidence than you think.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to rebuke, but Ten raises an eyebrow. “Jaehyun, you’re _hot._ You’re literally _so_ incredibly attractive. And you’re uncomfortable with it because—”

“Ten, stop,” Johnny cuts in, and Ten gives him an irritated look. “Listen, Jaehyun, if you don’t want to wear it, don’t. But you look really, really good.”

Ten scoffs, but thankfully doesn’t attempt to confront Jaehyun’s deepest insecurities again.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Jaehyun says, and sighs. “It’s alright, though. I can wear this.” _Ten’s right,_ he thinks with a fair amount of bitterness. _I’m being a bit of a coward._

He looks back over at his reflection, and something inside of him hardens with resolve. This is his _last chance_ to get the whole Doyoung thing back on track. His whole job quite literally hinges on it, and if wearing an absurdly tight pair of pants will help, then Jaehyun will do it.

“Hey,” Ten says after they’ve eaten and Jaehyun’s on his way out. “This won’t be so bad, Jaehyun.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jaehyun says, doubtful. “A whole house full of drunk people sounds pretty awful.”

“Nah,” Ten replies cheerfully. “At least there aren’t any zombies.”

 

* * *

 

Jaehyun wishes it was zombies. God, he’d take a hundred zombies right now over having to go to this party. Hell, he’d even take a hundred zombie _Donghyucks_ over this.

And he’s not even inside yet. He’s just standing in front of the door, having just texted Taeyong to let him in. But he can hear the music, bleeding out through the door, mingling with the sound of many voices, layered on top of each other.

His heart jumps into his throat. The door opens, his phone buzzes, and the person that says Jaehyun’s name isn’t Taeyong. Instead, it’s a short man with a kind, handsome sort of face, eyes clear and focused. Something about him puts Jaehyun at ease. _I have a job to do, and I’ll do it well,_ he tells himself firmly.

 _Taeil is Doyoung’s roommate he will get the door,_ Taeyong has texted, missing some spaces. Jaehyun assumes it’s because he’s a little drunk. Sure enough, the man in the doorway introduces himself as Moon Taeil and beckons Jaehyun inside.

It’s not as packed as he thought it was going to be, and Taeil is easy to latch onto. Jaehyun has to lean in a little to hear him over the music, but he keeps up with Taeil as he’s guided through the crowds of people towards the kitchen.

“So how do you know Taeyong?” Taeil shouts. “I think Doyoung mentioned him when he was telling me about you.”

Jaehyun winces at the sound of Doyoung’s name. Taeil doesn’t miss it, but he still waits for Jaehyun’s answer.

“Taeyong and I have been friends for about five years now,” Jaehyun says. “We met through his grandma, actually.”

It’s not a lie, either. Taeyong took over his grandmother’s role as dream-maker around five or so years ago, thus marking the beginning of his and Jaehyun’s friendship.

“How about you?” Jaehyun asks. “How do you know Taeyong? Through Doyoung, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Taeil says. “They’re both really good people. I moved in with Doyoung around a year ago, and he’s fantastic.” He levels a look at Jaehyun—not threatening, or resentful—just appraising. “Sort of weird how you guys didn’t get along. He was going on and on about you being—well, I won’t repeat it, I don’t think, but it wasn’t very…positive.”

Jaehyun’s hands start to sweat a little, but he keeps his polite smile on his face. “I think it was a misunderstanding. I wasn’t reading the situation very well, and I, um,” he pauses here, searching for something self-deprecating enough to make Taeil sympathetic, “I don’t usually do too well when I meet new people.”

Also not technically a lie. It has to be something about Taeil’s face that’s pulling the truth from Jaehyun—or maybe it’s his bald desperation to succeed, driving him to new lengths.

But it works like a charm. Taeil’s expression goes soft around the corners, and he reaches out and pats Jaehyun on the shoulder. “You should tell him that,” he advises, like Jaehyun’s someone he’s known for years and not just a stranger he’d met five minutes ago. “He’s around here somewhere. Be nice to him this time.”

Taeil leads Jaehyun farther into the kitchen, opening the fridge and rummaging around in it for a second. Jaehyun thinks about Doyoung’s file, about how his soulmate was among the people closest to him.

“You must really care about Doyoung, then,” Jaehyun says carefully. “If you’re giving advice about him.”

Taeil straightens, holding out a can of beer. Jaehyun takes it, fumbling with the tab for a second before he manages to crack it open.

It foams all over his fingers but he pretends not to notice as Taeil thinks over his answer. “Doyoung is…well, he’s a fantastic person _and_ friend,” he starts, “and despite him being my dongsaeng, I’m quite close to him. I love him very much.” He turns to Jaehyun, smiling. “Also, without him, I wouldn’t have met my boyfriend.”

 _So not Taeil,_ Jaehyun thinks with some dissatisfaction. _Damn. Roommates are always really easy to set up._

He’s about to ask where Doyoung is when something immense sweeps over him, pulling the sound from the air. Around him, the party comes to a halt. A couple halts in their steps, Taeil’s mouth stops moving halfway through his sentence, and the cell phone tumbling from a girl’s hand freezes on its way to the ground.

Upper management really does have a flair for dramatics.

“I know,” Jaehyun says to the sudden, echoing silence. “I know this is my last shot. You don’t have to remind me.”

His phone buzzes with an email. Rolling his eyes, Jaehyun opens it, reading through the brief message.

_We know you’re aware of your job, and we fully support you. To show our appreciation for your efficiency, as soon as things resume, you will encounter one of Doyoung’s coworkers. Please use this to your advantage._

There’s no email signature, or anything. Straight-to-the-point. Jaehyun doesn’t know what he expected.

Time unfreezes. Taeil finishes his sentence, the couple walks by, and the girl’s phone clatters to the ground. At the same time, someone bumps into Jaehyun, sending him stumbling forward a little bit.

“Oh, sorry,” the person says, and Jaehyun wonders if all of Doyoung’s friends are average-height, mid-twenties males with absurdly handsome faces. “I probably should stop drinking,” he continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just stepped on my own foot.”

 _Or the universe pushed you,_ Jaehyun thinks, but waves him off. “It’s fine.”

“This is Jung Jaehyun, by the way,” Taeil cuts in, stepping around Jaehyun. “Jaehyun-ssi, this is Qian Kun. He owns the shop Doyoung works at.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kun says, smiling. “Are you looking for Doyoung right now?”

“Not—not really,” Jaehyun answers, panicking. _I need to see if I can set_ you _up with Doyoung_. “I actually—”

“He’s right over there,” Kun supplies, trying to be helpful. He points, and sure enough, there’s Doyoung, clinking shot glasses with a girl in the middle of the living room.

Jaehyun looks between Kun and Taeil, the latter nodding encouragingly. And there’s really no polite way Jaehyun can say no at this point, and he’s _really_ trying to be polite despite the fact that neither of them seem to have any social awareness. Maybe it’s just a human thing.

“Thank you,” he says, inching forward. “It was good to meet you both. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“If it goes well with Doyoung, I think you will,” Taeil says. “Enjoy the party, Jaehyun-ssi! Come back if you want more beer!”

Jaehyun nods, trying not to let his nervousness show as he makes his way towards Doyoung, who is clearly intoxicated, swaying back and forth on his feet as he takes yet another shot, throwing it back with a little too much force and spilling most of it down his front.

“Fuck,” Doyoung announces to the people gathered around him. “It seems that I’ve spilled. I’ll be right back.”

He turns and catches sight of Jaehyun, who fights back the urge to scowl. His eyes narrow. “YOU,” Doyoung says loudly, pointing. “You. You’re annoying. You think you’re better than me. Why are you here?”

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun explains, hoping that’ll be enough of an explanation. Doyoung stumbles forward a step, catches himself, and glares at Jaehyun again.

“Fair enough,” he decides after a moment. They stand there, awkward. Doyoung sways on his feet and Jaehyun debates hitting Doyoung in the face and fleeing the scene. But just as he’s about to commit to it, Doyoung points at him again, shaking his head. “Uh-uh,” he says. “Just because you look a little hot and you haven’t pissed me off yet doesn’t mean you can escape. I still have WORDS for you, Jung Jaehyun.”

There is a lot to unpack in that sentence. Maybe a little too much, so Jaehyun simply decides not to think about it and follows Doyoung to wherever he’s going. Hopefully some place a bit quieter, and maybe not so _packed._

Doyoung leads him through a dark bedroom and out onto a tiny balcony—a fire escape, really, but when Jaehyun tries to point this out Doyoung glares at him again, so it’s with great effort that he shuts up about it. He scowls at Doyoung’s turned back, though, and that makes him feel a little better.

“So,” Jaehyun says, cradling his mostly-full beer to his chest and resolutely not making eye contact with Doyoung. “I know I messed up badly on Friday.”

“You did,” Doyoung mumbles, crossing his arms. “So bad. I’ve never been so furious in my life.”

Jaehyun winces. “I didn’t think before I said anything.” He can’t say _why_ he’s trying to explain himself to Doyoung—it’s not like he _wants_ Doyoung’s approval, or anything silly like that, but there is a part of him that wants to excuse his failure. _It wasn’t me as a person,_ Jaehyun wants to say. _I just made a mistake._

“It’s just,” Jaehyun continues, quieter, and it’s too late to stop himself from saying it, now, because Doyoung’s attention is on him. “I had a really long week at work. My job is on the line and I can’t afford to mess up again, and I took it out on you.”

Doyoung stares at him for a long moment, holding onto the rail of the fire escape so he doesn’t sway. “I don’t know what I expected,” Doyoung says at last, and Jaehyun holds his breath, waiting for the final blow, “but it wasn’t…something that nice.”

Jaehyun blinks, some of his slightly homicidal desperation ebbing. “You—what?”

Doyoung sighs and flops down onto the stairs, tucking his arms around himself. “I guess it’s partly my fault, too, probably,” he mumbles, and Jaehyun has to crouch to hear him through the slur of alcohol. “I get defensive. And I have a bit of a temper, too.” He looks up at Jaehyun, eyes liquid. They reflect the glow of the city lights beneath them, and Jaehyun feels oddly out-of-place, like this isn’t _his_ moment to be experiencing, but someone else’s. Maybe the alternate Jaehyun, who wears outfits like this all the time and is infinitely more human than he is.

Neither of them apologize, not quite—Jaehyun suspects _both_ of their prides can’t handle it—but it’s mutually understood that they feel bad about how they first met.

“I like it out here,” Jaehyun says in order to break the heavy silence that’s fallen over them. “Less loud.”

“Not one for parties?” Doyoung asks, tilting his head back. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt under his jacket, and the skin of his throat looks white against it. Jaehyun’s eyes, almost instinctively, follow the line of it, up-up-up over his chin and his mouth before he meets Doyoung’s gaze, a little disoriented. Doyoung raises an eyebrow just a bit, but Jaehyun ignores his unasked question for the previous one.

“No,” Jaehyun admits, tearing his eyes away from Doyoung’s and looking out over the network of streets, where he can hear cars and people passing below. “Not really.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and surprisingly, Doyoung doesn’t push him.

“Me neither,” Doyoung says abruptly, and it’s surprising enough that Jaehyun turns to face him again. “I always get too drunk and end up on fire escapes with pretty boys I barely know, much less like.”

“Ha ha,” Jaehyun says sarcastically, but he’s not sure it was a joke. Doyoung’s mouth curls at the corner, the barest hint of a smile. Something simmers between them, and Jaehyun can feel it in his cheeks.

Doyoung leans his head back again. “The world is spinning,” he murmurs. “Everytime I move my head, it takes ages for it to catch up.” He releases a breath. “Or maybe it’s me, getting left behind.”

Again, Jaehyun thinks of Doyoung’s file, and how they’ve been resetting his memory every thirty-ish years, throwing him into a completely new life and expecting him to do it all again. Even if Doyoung doesn’t remember it, Jaehyun imagines it’s a difficult way to live.

Through the hazy clouds, Jaehyun can see the moon, its light diluted. Doyoung closes his eyes, and Jaehyun studies him. He realizes now it was foolish to walk into that meeting and expect to be able to figure Doyoung out like he was a puzzle, straightforward with one solution. He’s complicated, unfortunately, and this is only one step of many Jaehyun knows he’ll have to take.

With this realization, however, comes something surprising: Doyoung isn’t as terrible as he thought. If only all conversations could be like this, Jaehyun thinks, then his life would be much easier.

Like he can hear Jaehyun’s thoughts, Doyoung cracks open an eye, expression lazy and glazed over. “This wasn’t so bad,” he mumbles. “Maybe I was a little wrong about you.”

“Hmm,” Jaehyun says, trying not to feel too smug or victorious. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

“You were,” Doyoung says without hesitation, and shivers so violently the stairs rattle. “Fuck, it’s cold. I’m going in.”

Jaehyun nods, agreeing. The chill has started to seep through his coat, numbing his fingers and toes. Doyoung fumbles above him for the railing, hauling himself unsteadily to his feet. He sways a bit, still clutching onto the railing.

“Whoa,” Jaehyun says, stepping forward as Doyoung begins to fold over the side of the fire escape, feet sliding out from under him. “Okay, let’s, uh, get away from there. You’re going to fall.”

“Can’t,” Doyoung mumbles. “I had too much to drink. I can’t walk anymore.” He shakes his head slowly, and starts to tip over the railing again.

“OKAY,” Jaehyun nearly shouts, startling and grabbing the back of Doyoung’s shirt and hauling him away from the edge of the fire escape. Doyoung goes boneless, collapsing into Jaehyun’s chest and letting his knees buckle.

Jaehyun catches him around the armpits before he hits the ground.

“Sorry,” Doyoung says, hiccuping sadly. “Told you I can’t walk.”

“You have to,” Jaehyun says desperately, planting his feet and dragging Doyoung upright again. “I can’t carry you.”

“Mm,” Doyoung says. He stumbles, turns, and slumps back into Jaehyun’s arms, head hitting his shoulder with a solid _thwack._ His breath is warm and sticky against Jaehyun’s neck.

Jaehyun sighs, pushing his irritation away. Even if he did get upset at Doyoung, he gets the feeling that it wouldn’t really register.

“What time is it?” Jaehyun asks, fumbling for his watch. Doyoung starts sliding out of his arms, and Jaehyun hefts him up again, annoyance prickling across his skin.

“Bedtime,” Doyoung mumbles. “You smell nice.”

Jaehyun decisively ignores that comment, and shifts Doyoung so he’s holding him around the waist and his weight isn’t all on Jaehyun anymore. His phone reads _10:54._

“It’s early,” Jaehyun says, surprised. “Wow, when did you start drinking?”

“Five,” Doyoung answers, head lolling backwards. “Work is hard. People are shitty to me.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says, and lapses into awkward silence. “Well…do you want to go to bed?”

Doyoung shakes his head. “I want Jungwoo.”

Jaehyun ears prick with interest. “Who’s Jungwoo?”

“My friend,” Doyoung mumbles. “I miss him.”

“Is he here?”

Doyoung shrugs. Jaehyun sighs, exasperated. “You’re not helpful at all, and I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Doyoung says sadly. “Sort of funny, too, since I work in retail.”

“I didn’t mean you specifically,” Jaehyun replies, getting more and more cross by the second. “I just meant, people in general.”

“Oh.”

“But you’re definitely included in that category, in case you’re wondering,” Jaehyun adds, unable to help himself.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” Doyoung answers, and Jaehyun _really_ panics, rushing him off the fire escape and back into the dark bedroom, where he dumps Doyoung into the equally dark bathroom by the toilet.  

Someone comes into the bedroom—or maybe it’s two people, Jaehyun can’t tell.

“Who’s that?” Someone asks.

“Jung Jaehyun,” Jaehyun says. “Doyoung is possibly vomiting right now. Would you, um, happen to know where Jungwoo is?”

“I’m Jungwoo,” the person responds. There’s some fumbling around and then the bedroom light flips on, temporarily blinding Jaehyun.

In the bathroom, Doyoung makes a very sad sound, and both Jaehyun and Jungwoo sigh at the exact same time.

Jungwoo gives him a tentative smile. “Sorry about him,” he says.

 _Goddammit,_ Jaehyun thinks, annoyed, _why do all of Doyoung’s friends look like idols?_

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun says, shifting awkwardly. “He was asking for you.”

Jungwoo sighs again. “I thought he would.” He shifts, too. “I shouldn’t technically be here. I don’t think it would be good for him to see me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m his ex,” Jungwoo says, matter-of-fact and maybe just a little bit sad. “And if he cries, I’ll cry. And he’ll definitely cry if he sees me.”

“Are you—” Jaehyun starts, cutting himself off only when he realizes _are you still in love_ is an incredibly personal question to ask a stranger. “I mean. Do you think he’ll be okay on his own, though?”

“You’re not leaving him, right?” Jungwoo asks, eyes going wide. “Because I can’t—I can’t take care of him. I should go, probably. I really do need to go.” He bites his lip and takes a step back, though his eyes dart over to the open door of the bathroom.

“Jungwoo-yah,” Doyoung says faintly. “I can hear you out there.”

Jungwoo sends a panicked look in Jaehyun’s direction. _Don’t let him see me,_ he mouths frantically.

“Jungwoo—”

“ _Shh_ ,” Jungwoo snaps. “Tell him he’s imagining things.”

Jaehyun is a terrible liar, but he hopes Doyoung is drunk enough to not notice. “He’s not here, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says, and his ears get hot as he watches Jungwoo slowly edge backwards, towards the bedroom door. “You’re just hearing things.”

Jungwoo looks incredibly pained. _Definitely still love there,_ Jaehyun notes.

“Are you sure?” Doyoung asks. “He’s not—he’s not there?”

“No,” Jaehyun answers, swallowing hard. He waves a hand at Jungwoo. “You should go,” he whispers. “I’ll get him into bed.”

“Thank you,” Jungwoo says. He looks like he’s going to say something else, too, but opts against it, slipping out of the bedroom and disappearing into the party beyond. The door shuts behind him with a gentle click.

Doyoung comes out of the bathroom, looking pale and exhausted. He stumbles over his feet, tipping forward, but this time, Jaehyun is ready, catching him gently by the shoulders and guiding him to the bed.

Doyoung kicks off his shoes and looks at his socks for a long moment. “Jungwoo broke my heart,” he says at last, and lets out a huge breath, flopping back against the mattress. His eyes don’t close all the way, and Jaehyun can see the whites of them through his fluttering lashes.

“Ah,” Jaehyun says, suddenly very unsure. “I’m—it must’ve been really hard.”

“It was. It is,” Doyoung modifies. His eyes close all the way. “Thank you for making sure I didn’t fall of the fire escape,” he mumbles. “I’m going to feel really embarrassed about this in the morning, but for right now, it’s, uh. It’s nice.”

The same strange electricity settles between them again, but it’s muted and warmer, almost. Like the promise of something else.

It’s incredibly disconcerting, and Jaehyun has to get out of here right now. “Goodnight, Doyoung,” he says quietly, heading for the door. “I’ll tell your friends you’re in here.”

“’Night, Jaehyun,” Doyoung answers, and there’s a strange note of resignation in his voice. “Drive safely.”  

Jaehyun does not sleep easily that night, too busy replaying Jungwoo’s face but mostly Doyoung’s voice, over and over again.

 

* * *

 

At first, Jaehyun genuinely believes it’s a coincidence.

Naive, he’s aware, since he knows the actual universe and how it works—is _in charge_ of setting up the tiny “chance” encounters that lead people to each other.

But he never would have thought his own tactics would have been used on him, in some convoluted attempt by the universe to help.

And it starts when he gets sent to Hongdae by the higher-ups to personally check on a match he’d set up right before the Mark and Donghyuck incident. Jaehyun’s a little pissed about it, too—his car is in the shop today because the engine light had flicked on a few days ago, right before it’d started to make strange noises. And despite standing on the curb for fifteen minutes, no cabs stop, so he reluctantly gets on the subway, crowding in with a dozen or so other people. It’s loud, and the man standing next to him smells funny, and Jaehyun enjoys approximately none of it and is glad for the relief when he finally exits the station.

It’s an unusually warm day, and Jaehyun unbuttons his overcoat as he searches up the match on his phone, sorting through countless files. When he locates the people he’s looking for, however, he freezes—the match he’d been sent to check on had moved to America about a month ago.

Irritation immediately prickles over his skin, and Jaehyun takes a deep breath through his nose. _America._ He’d been sent over here for absolutely _nothing,_ because his bosses can’t do their _fucking_ job, apparently, and make mistakes all the time _DESPITE THEM NOT EVEN BEING HUMAN,_ and Jaehyun has to take the brunt of their fuck-ups even though he’s exhausted and already overworked—

“Jaehyun-ssi?”

Jaehyun whirls around, nearly dropping his phone. Doyoung is standing there, looking vaguely embarrassed and mildly worried, a massive cardboard box propped on his hip.

 _Of course,_ Jaehyun thinks. _Of course he’s somehow here._

“Hello,” Jaehyun greets, trying to compose himself so he doesn’t look so panicked. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

Doyoung goes bright pink, and his embarrassment grows. “I am—I’m _so_ sorry about that,” Doyoung mumbles into the cardboard box. “You don’t even know me, and you had to deal with that.”

Jaehyun thinks about Jungwoo, about the pain in both of their voices and eyes. A little out of his comfort zone, and definitely above his pay grade—but, if he hadn’t done it, then Doyoung probably would’ve pitched head-first off the fire escape.

He tells Doyoung this last part, and Doyoung, if possible, turns even redder. “I am never drinking that much ever again,” he says to himself, closing his eyes and turning his face away.

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun insists, pushing away the part of him that wants to gloat. “Really. Don’t worry too much about it.”

Doyoung opens his eyes and squints at Jaehyun. There’s something intense about the look he gives Jaehyun—observant, inquiring, and maybe a little warm around the edges.

“Let me buy you lunch,” Doyoung says, shifting the box in his arms. “To make up for it.”

Jaehyun thinks about all the work he has to do, and then he thinks about failure and being fired and not living up to everyone’s standards.

“Okay,” he says.

Doyoung gives him a tentative smile. “Cool. Let me just drop this off at the store. You can come, if you want, and say hi to Kun.”

“Kun?” Jaehyun asks as they set off, Doyoung struggling with the massive box. “Oh, wait, never mind. I remember him.” Between all of the friends Jaehyun’s met so far, Jungwoo and Kun seem the most promising. Jaehyun makes a note to look them up when he gets back to work.

Doyoung stops in front of a neat little shop, all of their clothes a cross between street fashion and overpriced celebrity style. Jaehyun sees where Doyoung gets his style from, now.

“Can you grab the door?” Doyoung asks, gritting his teeth. “ _Ah,_ this is heavy.”

“What is it?” Jaehyun asks, opening the door. A bell chimes merrily as he does so, and Doyoung squishes both himself and the box through the doorway with some effort.

“Hangers,” Doyoung says, panting a bit as the door closes behind them. “Ours are gross.”

Kun pokes his head out of a doorway in the back, waving when he sees both of them. “Hi, Jaehyun-ssi! And Doyoung, oh my god, thank you so much for grabbing those.”

Doyoung drops the box behind the counter with a grunt, drawing the attention of some girls browsing in the corner. “Not a problem. Is it okay if I take my lunch break right now?”

“Yep, go ahead,” Kun says. “Da-hye should be back in a minute, and Sooyoung’s helping someone in the dressing room.”

Doyoung gives Kun a quick bow. “See you in a bit,” he says, and leads Jaehyun back out of the store and into the cold. “Where do you want to go?”

“Um,” Jaehyun says, looking around quickly for an idea. He wants to say _not somewhere cheap_ but gets the distinct feeling that Doyoung would push him into the street and leave him there if he did. “I don’t know this area too well, so it’s up to you.”

“How do you feel about salads?” Doyoung asks, stopping at the crosswalk. “If not, there’s a good taco place we could go to as well.”

“Salads are fine,” Jaehyun says as politely as he can muster. “Is it one of those make-your-own places?”

“Yeah, and it’s _good_ ,” Doyoung replies. “I don’t like vegetables, really, but this place tricks me into thinking I do.”

Jaehyun snorts before he can help himself, and Doyoung gives him another smile. They get their food—Doyoung pays for them both, sneakily, while Jaehyun is fumbling for his wallet.

“In return for making sure I didn’t die,” Doyoung explains when Jaehyun attempts to argue. “Come on, Jaehyun-ssi. It’s the least I can do.”

Jaehyun looks at Doyoung for a long moment, and then finally sits down. Jaehyun gets the feeling that it’s best to let Doyoung have his way on this one. “Okay.”

“This is a lot better, right?” Doyoung asks, picking up his fork.

“What is?”

“When you’re not being an asshole,” Doyoung says, squinting at Jaehyun. There’s a tilt to his voice that suggests that he’s not really being serious, but Jaehyun still has to take a moment and fight the urge to snap back.

“And when you’re not being one too,” Jaehyun finishes, and it’s the right thing to say because Doyoung laughs.

Conversation flows a lot smoother than the first time around, and Jaehyun finds it’s actually impressively easy to talk to Doyoung when he’s not being overly dramatic and closed-off. Doyoung tells Jaehyun about his friends, about his job and about the parts of it he likes the best (the discounted clothes, the personal work environment, and Kun) and the parts of it he doesn’t like (middle-aged women, annoying customers, sorting). Jaehyun makes sure the conversation stays directed at him as much as possible, because Jaehyun needs this information to make a good match. And maybe also because his own life seems slightly grey and one-dimensional in comparison.

When they’re both done and ready to part ways, there’s a brief moment of hesitation. Doyoung twists his hands together, biting his lip while Jaehyun waits awkwardly.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” Doyoung says. “It was good to not fight. I get the feeling I was wrong about you.”

“I think I was wrong about you too,” Jaehyun says, and surprisingly, he half-means it. And when Doyoung smiles at him again, it feels like success.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Doyoung loses his wallet.

The reason Jaehyun knows this, however, is not because Doyoung tells him, but because he finds it on the sidewalk by the river. At first, he nearly walks past it, but then it flaps open in the wind, revealing Doyoung’s ID.

Jaehyun bends to pick it up, disbelieving. He looks up to the sky. “Really? You’re gonna make me trekk all the way to Hongdae _now_?”

The sky darkens momentarily, crowding with clouds. The universe tugs at him, insistent. _Remember, you have a job to do,_ it seems to tell him.

Jaehyun looks down at the wallet. It’s a nice wallet, and there’s a pretty significant amount of cash in it, as well as a couple credit cards. But what really stands out is the dog-eared photograph poking out from behind Doyoung’s ID, and unable to help himself, Jaehyun pulls it out. It’s a polaroid, from one of those cheap, brightly-colored cameras. In it, a slightly younger Doyoung has an arm around Taeyong and Jungwoo, the latter’s cheek pressed against Doyoung’s. It’s slightly overexposed, and a bit fuzzy around the edges, but they radiate so much joy that it doesn’t really matter.

A lump begins to form in Jaehyun’s throat, and he remembers how Doyoung’s had to remake his life from scratch, over and over, for the last century.

He tucks the picture away before he can get any more emotional. But there is a sense of renewed determination—he’s going to find Doyoung’s soulmate, and maybe it’s not just because Jaehyun wants to succeed, but also because he thinks Doyoung deserves a whole life of that happiness, even if he’s just human.

The universe sings triumphantly as he gets in his car and heads towards Hongdae, resigned.

The bell over Kun’s shop tinkles amiably, and Jaehyun is relieved to see that Doyoung’s behind the counter and not off getting more packages.

“Hi, welcome in,” Doyoung chimes, not looking up from the notebook in front of him.

Jaehyun awkwardly edges into the shop, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Uh, hi.”

Doyoung’s head snaps up, eyes widening for a half-second before he recognizes Jaehyun and grins. “Oh, Jaehyun-ssi! How are you?”

“I’m good,” Jaehyun replies, and when Doyoung continues to stare at him expectantly, he adds, “well, I’m tired, and completely swamped at work. And my bosses won’t lay off me.”

Doyoung winces sympathetically. “Corporate life, huh? Nothing like the mindless, agonizing grind.”

Jaehyun decides it’s not really worth arguing with, especially since Doyoung’s a little right. “We all have to do things we don’t like.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t work yourself to death,” Doyoung says, softer than Jaehyun expected. The now-familiar hum of tension fills the air again, and they stare at each other for a good five seconds before Jaehyun remembers why he’s here in the first place—and it’s not to study the strange, graceful curve of Doyoung’s eyes and cheeks.

 _Stop it,_ he tells himself firmly, and pats over his jacket for Doyoung’s wallet. “I found this,” Jaehyun says, pulling it out. Doyoung comes out from behind the counter, gasping when he realizes Jaehyun’s got his wallet. He takes it and bows his head, saying, “I can’t believe I _lost_ it—no, actually, I can’t believe you happened to be in Mapo and _found_ it.”

“Coincidence,” Jaehyun says, even though he gets the itchy feeling that it’s not.

“Some people would say fate, maybe,” Doyoung muses, and gives Jaehyun a long look. “I didn’t even know I’d dropped it, and there’s a ton of cash in here. What are the chances that _you,_ of all people, would pick it up?”

 _Pretty high,_ Jaehyun thinks dryly. “Maybe some people have a point.”

“I have a dongsaeng that’s a firm believer in fate and inevitability, actually,” Doyoung says, flipping the wallet open and rifling through it. “I went to the same high school as some of his friends.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun asks, carefully keeping his face neutral. “And?”

“Yeah, apparently he met his boyfriend out of nowhere,” Doyoung continues. “And now he goes on and on about soulmates, and destiny, and reincarnation.” Doyoung’s nose wrinkles. “It’s both endearing and absurd.”

“Absurd?” Jaehyun asks, unable to help but feel a little offended. “Why’s that?”

“I just don’t see how it could exist,” Doyoung says. “Like, if it did, why would it only work for certain people? Mark met the love of his life at age _nineteen,_ and I have never seen a more functional couple in my _life._ ”

There’s a hint of bitterness in Doyoung’s voice, and maybe a little sadness, too.

“I like to think about it like this,” Jaehyun says after a moment, not sure if he’s trying to console Doyoung or explain why he’s wrong. “Not fate or destiny, but more like…a nudge. A push.”

Doyoung meets Jaehyun’s eyes, irises dark. “A nudge?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, and feels his cheeks heating as he realizes how cheesy he’s being. “Something’s, uh, just looking out for you. And some need a little more help than others.”

Doyoung lets out a breath and smiles slightly. “You don’t look it at first glance, Jaehyun, but you’re absolutely a romantic.”

The heat creeps up to Jaehyun’s ears. “No.”

Doyoung’s smile grows. “You’re lying. Your ears are pink.”

Jaehyun resists the urge to clap his hands over his ears, and opts to scowl at Doyoung again. “I’m not doing anything nice for you anymore,” he mutters, and turns around to leave.

“Thanks for my wallet!” Doyoung calls after him. “See you later, Jaehyun, if the universe allows it?”

 _Oh, it’ll allow it alright,_ Jaehyun thinks as he gets back in his car. _I don’t really have a choice._

His heartbeat is strangely erratic, and it takes a while for the heat to fade from his cheeks and ears. He refuses to admit that his day has been improved—because it _hasn’t,_ since Doyoung is just a part of work anyway—but the time does seem to pass a little easier, and the paperwork feels less dull.

He flips through Doyoung’s file again at the end of the day, lingering on the section about his memory wipe and remembering the polaroid in Doyoung’s wallet. With renewed determination, Jaehyun starts going through his notes about Doyoung’s friends again, who’d he’d seen here and there thanks to the help of the upper management, conveniently arranging rain storms and late trains and sudden specific food cravings. Taeil is off the list, because he’s already dating someone, and the healing time needed between a potential break-up and match is too long. Plus it seems kind of cruel, now that Jaehyun _really_ thinks about it, to tear people apart like that without a good reason—which Jaehyun doesn’t really have.

Taeyong’s off the list too, since he’s the dream-maker, and any female friends are also off, unfortunately, since Doyoung has many of those.

That leaves Jaehyun with Kun, the handsome boss, or Jungwoo, the pretty ex-boyfriend.

Both are good choices, but difficult to arrange for different reasons. Kun, because it’s a steady platonic relationship, firmly structured by work. And Jungwoo—well, Jungwoo and Doyoung are collectively a huge mess, lingering feelings aside.

Jaehyun throws his pen aside and sighs, rubbing at his temples to dispel the building headache.

“I am not paid enough for this,” he mumbles. He checks the clock—it’s almost seven, and he’s both tired and hungry, which are both firsts. He can’t ever remember actively feeling either. Maybe it’s the universe telling him he needs to go home. Not that he can, not really, until he gets his shit together and figures this out, for _once._

Just then, his phone rings, the special ringtone he’d given to Taeyong echoing through the silent office. Jaehyun stares at the caller ID, both loathing and loving the threads of staged coincidence, before he picks up.

“Hi, Taeyong,” he greets. “What’s going on?”

“Jaehyun!” Taeyong exclaims. Like always, he’s nearly inaudible over the din in the background. “Come to dinner at my house! My grandma is asking for you.”

“Why?”

“I have no clue,” Taeyong answers. “But she says she’ll smack you if you don’t.”

“Very scary,” Jaehyun says sarcastically. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Thank you so much,” Taeyong says, and he pulls away from the phone momentarily to shout at a dog or a cousin or his sister, or all three. Then his voice is close again. “And I’m going to karaoke with a couple friends after! You should come to that, too.”

“I don’t know about karaoke,” Jaehyun says doubtfully. “One thing at a time, okay?”

“You should come,” Taeyong repeats, more firmly. “We’ll talk about it when you get here. I think it’s good for you to break out of your comfort zone again.”

“Ten told you about the party, didn’t he,” Jaehyun states. It’s not a question because he already knows the answer—Ten was, is, and will always be a snitch, for as long as he exists.

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, and he sounds guilty. “But you can’t be mad at me for it, since you didn’t even tell me how it went!”

Jaehyun thinks of fire escapes, of Doyoung’s throat, of the sad slur to his words, and is reminded exactly why he didn’t tell Ten (and by extent, everyone else in South Korea) any of this.

“That’s because nothing happened,” Jaehyun says, and he’s glad Taeyong can’t see him, because his face goes hot at the lie. “I went for work, got what I needed, and left.”

“Okay, Jaehyun,” Taeyong says in a way Jaehyun doesn’t have the emotional patience to decipher. “I’ll see you in twenty!”

He hangs up after that, and Jaehyun sits at his desk for a couple seconds, staring blankly into space and wondering what he did in his past life to deserve friends that managed to be so amazingly mean to him _all the time._

 

* * *

 

“Two things,” Taeyong says as soon as he opens the front door, “first, you’ll ruin your suit, why’d you wear it, and secondly, Ten and Johnny are here.”

Jaehyun stares at Taeyong, who gives him a sheepish look. “I invited Ten, and that means Johnny too.”

“Ten is a menace, and he’s also the reason you’re on dream probation,” Jaehyun reminds Taeyong as he follows him into the house.

Taeyong shrugs. “I’m tired of being mad at him. And it was my grandma that asked them to come, not me. She’s clearly got something to tell you guys.”

“Johnny can’t hear,” Jaehyun says immediately, toeing off his shoes. “He’s—”

“Johnny can’t what?” Ten asks, coming around the corner. He’s got a bag of trash in one hand, and there’s flour smeared down his front. “Hey, Jaehyun. How’s it going with Doyoung?” His eyes glint when he says Doyoung’s name, mischievous and unreadable.

“Fine,” Jaehyun mutters. “I’ll have to thank Johnny again for the clothes.”

“Speaking of clothes,” Ten says, “you should change. There’s nine thousand kids in there and they’re all little monsters.” He steps into his sneakers, shifting the trash bag. “They can smell fear, I’m sure of it, because they haven’t left me alone. Johnny, of course, is fantastic with them.” Something warm passes across Ten’s face—sheer adoration, Jaehyun thinks—but it’s gone in a flash. “Anyways. See you guys in a second.” He brushes past them and out into the night, the door slamming behind him.

Jaehyun turns to Taeyong. “What’s up with him?”

Taeyong gives Jaehyun an uneasy look. “I don’t know.”

“But you have a feeling, right?” Jaehyun asks, and though Taeyong doesn’t answer, Jaehyun knows he’s got an inkling as to what’s on Ten’s mind.

“Come up this way and we’ll get you some regular clothes,” Taeyong says instead, leading Jaehyun past the living room, where three little kids watch cartoons on the TV, entranced. They go up the stairs and squeeze into Taeyong’s tiny room, where there’s just enough space for a desk, a bed and and a rug. It’s probably about the size of Jaehyun’s closet, which has always made him feel strangely guilty for some reason. But Taeyong seems to love it, just as he seems to love living here.

Taeyong rifles through his closet while Jaehyun looks at the pictures he’s got taped to his wall and framed on his desk. There’s his sister as a baby, his parents and grandma. High school friends, the boyfriend that vanished as soon as Taeyong became the dream-maker. And there’s a similar polaroid to the one Doyoung had in his wallet—the two of them and Jungwoo, squished together and frozen mid-laugh, Jungwoo’s fingers digging into Taeyong’s side. Doyoung’s put up a peace sign, and Jaehyun is once again struck by how relaxed he looks, free of bitterness and the sharp-edged defensiveness Jaehyun is slowly getting to know.

“Oh, that picture,” Taeyong says, dumping the pile of clothes on the bed and coming to stand next to Jaehyun. “That was taken…four years ago? Our first or second year of college, I think.”

“You guys are so young,” Jaehyun says. “I remember when your hair was that blonde.”

“It ruined my scalp,” Taeyong groans, running a hand over his head. “I had dandruff for months.”

Jaehyun taps on the picture. “I met Jungwoo at the party.”

“Jungwoo was there?” Taeyong turns sharply to Jaehyun. “I left early, and he didn’t tell me anything.”

“Yeah, he was there,” Jaehyun says. “And he and Doyoung were both…”

“Dramatic messes?” Taeyong fills in, crossing his arms. “Yeah. They broke up at the end of the summer, and neither of them are doing as well as they think.”

“Do you think they could get back together?” Jaehyun asks, trying to sound as casual as possible. He crosses over to the bed and starts changing his clothes so Taeyong can’t see his face.

“They could,” Taeyong starts, “but I don’t think it would be good for them.”

 _Don’t really have much of a choice,_ Jaehyun thinks, pulling on the pair of ratty Adidas track pants and the long sleeve Taeyong has picked out. “Why not?”

“Doyoung is really…well, he doesn’t pull his punches. And Jungwoo is pretty sensitive, and he gets mean when his feelings are hurt.” Taeyong tosses Jaehyun the hoodie on the back of his chair. “And like, I love them both, but—they hurt each other a lot. And I think it’s good that they’re not that close anymore.”

Jaehyun puts the hoodie on, trying to digest everything he’d just heard.

“Ready to go?” Taeyong asks. “My sister’s been talking nonstop about you since she heard you were coming.”

“Sure,” Jaehyun says. He doesn’t have much time to dwell, either, because there’s _so many people_ in Taeyong’s house, and they all demand his attention for the whole of dinner. Taeyong’s mom, who resembles her son exactly, tasks him and Johnny with getting all the kids washed up and in their seats. There are four of them, plus Taeyong’s sister who’s eleven and very excited about having guests over. She jabbers nonstop while Jaehyun lifts kids up so they can wash their hands at the sink.

“Did you know, when the dinosaurs went extinct, only tiny mammals and birds lived? And there was enough oxygen for them to get bigger?” She takes a deep breath in through her nose. “And did you know that the oxygen was thanks to all the plants? But they died when the Ice Age came, but by then we were already evolving from mice and stuff, and—”

“Seoyoungie,” Taeyong’s aunt says, sticking her head into the bathroom, “stop talking Jaehyun’s ear off and come help your mother set the table.”

Seoyoung pouts. “But I’m helping Jaehyun-oppa. Right?”

Jaehyun sets the kid down so Johnny can help him dry his hands. “We’re done here, auntie,” he says politely. “If there’s anything left to do, we’ll help.”

“Ah, no, Jaehyun-ssi,” Taeyong’s aunt insists, flapping her hands. “You’re so polite. But we’re just about done.”

“But—but—but you just said you needed help!” Seoyoung sputters. “How come they don’t have to help but I do?”

“Because you’re not the guest,” Taeyong’s aunt snaps, and then gives Jaehyun another smile. “Tae-mi, Hyunshik, come along and sit at the table. Bring your friends, too.”

The kids file out of the bathroom, followed by a disappointed-looking Seoyoung. “Please sit next to me, oppa,” she begs Jaehyun on the way out. “You’re the only one that listens to me.”

Jaehyun blinks at her, a bit stunned, but nods. She gives him a bright, gummy smile—the exact same as Taeyong’s—and then it’s just Jaehyun and Johnny in the bathroom.

Johnny claps Jaehyun on the back. “She likes you,” he tells her. “Ten’s gonna be super jealous. He’s been trying to make Seoyoung acknowledge him for the last year and a half.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” Jaehyun says, confused. He stands and follows Johnny out into the dining room, where the chaos is slowly organizing as dishes are brought out and as people slowly settle into their seats.

“You’re a good guy,” Johnny tells him, and he seems to really mean it, too. “You listen well. And you—”

“Johnny,” Ten says, barging between them and latching onto Johnny’s arm. “Oh my god, save me, there’s demons—”

“ _Ten-hyung! Ten-hyung!”_ Hyunshik and his friend chant, skittering around the edge of the table and running towards Ten. “Do the thing!” Hyunshik demands. “The thing with your face!”

Ten shrieks and jumps behind Johnny, but that doesn’t stop either of the boys, who split and corner Ten before he can escape again.

“DO IT, DO IT,” they chant, clapping their hands.

“Boys!” Taeyong’s uncle scolds, setting his hands on his hips. “Your grandmother is going to be very angry if you don’t come sit down.”

“Not until hyung does the thing,” Hyunshik says, kicking Ten in the shin. “Do it!”

Ten scowls at him viciously, eyebrows pulling together, and the boys dissolve into shrieks of delighted laughter, ignoring how all of the adults attempt to reprimand them.

“They wanted to see you…scowl?” Johnny asks, confused, as they take their seats at the table. Next to Jaehyun, Seoyoung eats rice grain-by-grain when nobody’s looking.

“Yeah,” Ten mutters, looking grumpy. “They told me I looked like a cartoon character. It cracked them up, apparently.”

“Aw,” Johnny says, clearly trying to be sympathetic but unable to help his laughter. “You’re totally terrifying when you scowl, I swear. I’m just laughing because it’s funny—”

“You’re the worst,” Ten groans, and turns to Jaehyun, who quickly slaps a hand over his mouth so Ten can’t see him laughing also. “Not you too.”

“I’m not remotely sorry,” Jaehyun says, lowering his hand. “You deserve it.”

Taeyong’s grandma sits down at the head of the table just then, and they all begin to eat as soon as she picks up her chopsticks. Seoyoung inhales her food and gets seconds before Jaehyun can even finish his vegetables. She also somehow manages to tell Jaehyun all of her school drama at the same time, from how one girl’s been leaving mean notes in her desk and how this boy she likes has a huge crush on her best friend.

“As soon as you give me a name,” Taeyong pipes up from the other side of the table, where he’s picking something out of Hyunshik’s salad, “I’m going to beat them all up.”

“Oppa, you can’t, I won’t look very cool,” Seoyoung informs him. “But you don’t need to worry. I’m very tough.”

“Of course you are,” Taeyong acquiesces, and Seoyoung nods firmly.

“But if you want to come threaten them, Jaehyun-oppa,” Seoyoung whispers to Jaehyun a second later, “that would be pretty cool.”

Jaehyun pats her hand. “I’d _definitely_ embarrass you.”

“No way,” Seoyoung gasps. “You’re so cool. Taeyong talks about all the people you help—how you find their _one true love._ And I think that’s pretty awesome. Don’t listen to anyone else.” She pushes the rest of the chicken off her plate and onto his. “Here, have my chicken. You look tired.”

“Thanks, Seoyoung-ah,” Jaehyun replies, and catches Taeyong smiling at them both from across the table.

The warmth of dinner lingers, even as Taeyong’s grandma keeps the three of them at the table as soon as Johnny leaves to go get the car, where he’d parked it down on the main street. Her face is very somber, but Jaehyun can’t remember if he’s actually seen it any other way.

“I’m sure each of you knows why you’re here,” Taeyong’s grandmother starts, giving them each a firm look.

Jaehyun starts to open his mouth to say _no, I don’t,_ but Taeyong shakes his head.

“You were all involved in that silly incident in the summer,” she continues, “with those two boys. Which, I hope, are both doing very well.”

“Yes,” Jaehyun answers. “They are.”

“Good. The methods were doubtful, but I can see why the match needed to be made.”

Taeyong’s grandmother pauses here, leaning forward and folding her hands together. She nods at Ten first, who has been uncharacteristically silent this whole time.

“You and that boy,” she says. “It can’t be forever.”

Ten seems to fold inwards, fixing his eyes on the edge of the table. “I know,” he says quietly. “I’m too selfish to let him go.”

“If your heart breaks,” Taeyong’s grandmother warns, “you will lose your role. Love is not unbiased, or neutral, nor is it all-knowing. It is not perfect, wise, and whole. Like all things involving people, it is flawed.”

“I know,” Ten says, even quieter than before. “I know I’m already breaking every single rule.”

“He makes you more,” Taeyong’s grandmother says, and there’s a heaviness to it, “than the universe says you should be. And it cannot stay that way.”

Ten begins to tremble, and he squeezes his eyes shut, tucking his chin to his chest. “I _know._ ”

“Good.” And with that, Taeyong’s grandmother turns to Jaehyun and Taeyong. “Both of you—you have jobs to do. _Do them._ Do not mess up again—things up there are not usually so kind when it comes to second chances. That is something inherently human, which neither of you are.”

Taeyong stiffens, eyes glossing over. “I am.”

“Not anymore, boy,” Taeyong’s grandmother snaps. “You make dreams.”

Taeyong shuts his mouth, and Jaehyun’s chest begins to squeeze as he watches both of his friends fight back tears.

 _The truth hurts,_ Jaehyun thinks to himself, but at the same time, a little voice goes, _but is it really the truth?_

“And you, Jung Jaehyun,” Taeyong’s grandmother says, turning her cool gaze to him. “Remember what you’re supposed to do. What you _must_ do, if you want the life you live.”

“I will,” Jaehyun says. He’s used to her advice—cold, unflinching, and harsh in every way—but this is the first time that it’s pushed at him wrong, not sitting quite right on his shoulders. Briefly, Doyoung flashes through his mind, their little, stolen moments sending a little shiver of warmth down his spine.

He shuts it off.

Johnny comes back through the door. “Hey, I’ve got the car—” He starts, too loudly, too brightly—an imposter, almost. Jaehyun has never been more aware of how _old_ he his—and how cold he feels. How no part of him hurts, has ever hurt. Until maybe that one Thursday, where he’d been bitter and stung, but also _warm,_ right in the very center of his chest, because someone had looked him in the eye and told him, _I hear you._

Well, it’d been _I hear you, and you’re a fucking asshole and full of shit._ But it was nice nonetheless.

Taeyong’s grandmother gets up from the table and leaves with one more pointed look at Ten, who’s furiously gripping the table.

As soon as she’s gone, Johnny hesitantly steps into the room. “Is everything—are you guys okay?”

Taeyong stands so abruptly that Jaehyun startles. “We’re fine,” he says firmly. “I need a drink. Or seven.”

He brushes past Johnny, expression faraway.

Johnny turns to Jaehyun, lost. “What did she talk about?” He asks. “Is Ten—Ten, babe, are you okay?” He makes his way to Ten, touching him tentatively on the shoulder. Ten immediately sags into his touch, crumpling forward and tucking his face into Johnny’s neck.

Jaehyun immediately stands, feeling like he’s intruding. “I’ll be outside,” he says, and Johnny lifts a hand in acknowledgment, letting Ten clutch at the back of his shirt.

“I love you,” Ten is whispering when Jaehyun leaves. “More than anything.”

Taeyong is kicking at stray gravel on the ground, looking frustrated and sad. They don’t say anything for a little while, until Jaehyun puts a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to still his frenetic figdeting.

Taeyong sighs. “She’s full of shit,” he says aloud. “She’s old. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun replies, but it’s uneasy, and he can tell that neither of them really believe it.

 

* * *

 

When they get to karaoke, the lady at the desk tells them their friends are already there and leads them back to their room.

It’s already crowded—people have clearly invited their friends, too, because there’s a few girls that Jaehyun doesn’t recognize. He can pick out Taeil, who’s selecting a song, and Kun, who’s pouring drinks by the couches, and that’s about it. No Doyoung.

Disappointment sinks through him before he can stop it, but he quickly pushes it away and heads over to Kun, who greets him cheerfully and hands him a drink.

Taeil begins to sing very well, belting out the high notes of the ballad he’d picked with relative ease.

Jaehyun chats politely with Kun for a couple minutes— _how’s work, the weather’s warming up, do you think the cherry blossoms will come early,_ and so on—until Jaehyun finally works up the courage to ask about Doyoung.

“Did Doyoung decide not to come?” Jaehyun asks carefully.

Kun gives Jaehyun a once-over. “He was sick today. I went over to his house after work to bring him some porridge.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Jaehyun says. “I hope he feels better. It’s good that he has friends to look out for him.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate you saying that,” Kun replies, and his unreadable expression shifts to something much warmer and welcoming. He’s about to say something more when his phone buzzes, screen lighting up. “Okay, just kidding,” he says, surprised, “Doyoung says he’s suddenly better and almost here.”

Something like laughter echoes through the link Jaehyun has to the fabric of fate.

“Must’ve been you,” Kun says, laughing and tossing his phone aside. “He’s been talking about you a lot, lately.”

 _Uh-oh,_ Jaehyun thinks with a fair amount of panic, hands sweating. “Yeah, um, we’ve hung out a couple times.”

“Mm,” Kun says, and leaves it at that. Jaehyun gets the feeling that Kun—like with most everyone in Jaehyun’s life—knows more than he’s saying, but has no intention of telling Jaehyun _what,_ exactly.

 _Okay, if you’re going to do this to me,_ Jaehyun thinks helplessly as Kun gets to his feet to take a turn at singing, _pull on some stuff and have Jungwoo show up at the end. Just so I can see how to set him and Doyoung up._

There’s a sharp tug in response.

 _Please,_ Jaehyun adds. _I’m getting a little desperate here._

Another tug, but gentler this time. Agreement. Jaehyun lets out a breath, shoulders dropping with relief. He takes a sip of his drink, letting its warmth settle in his belly and ease the tension from his bones.

“Jaehyun! Get up here!” Johnny calls. He turns to Kun. “This guy’s awesome, I promise. We came here around a year ago and he _killed_ it, oh my god.”

Everyone in the room turns to look at him, and people start to cheer. Taeyong, smiling now that he’s got alcohol in him, nudges Jaehyun. “You should go,” he encourages. “Show everyone what you’re really about.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Jaehyun mutters, tossing back the rest of his drink and getting to his feet. Johnny picks a song, seemingly at random, and Jaehyun takes the mic from him. Luckily, it’s one that he recognizes, and he does his best, letting Johnny skip over the instrumental parts.

When he’s done, the room bursts into applause and shouts, and Johnny claps him on the back so hard he nearly knocks Jaehyun over.

Face burning, Jaehyun gives the mic back to Kun and swipes Ten’s drink on his way back to the couches. It’s very strong, and burns his sinuses a bit as he swallows.

“That was impressive.”

Jaehyun turns, and there’s Doyoung, smiling slightly. He looks a little pale and his hair’s a bit disheveled, but Jaehyun is glad to see him.

“Thanks,” he says. “I used to sing in college.” A complete and total lie, of course, because Jaehyun has no memory of college, much less of how he became a good singer. So he fills in the gaps with made-up stories he thinks sound true enough.

“What did you study?” Doyoung asks, and Jaehyun wracks his brain for something that makes sense.

“I, uh, was an informatics major,” Jaehyun says. “It made me miserable, though. So competitive, and all I wanted to do was talk to people.”

Doyoung sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to him. “I was an accounting major, if you can believe it,” Doyoung says as soon as Jaehyun’s sitting next to him. “So I feel your pain. I wanted to be an art major so badly.”

“Why didn’t you? Your family?”

Doyoung shakes his head. At the front of the room, Johnny and Ten begin a rap duet, so loud that Jaehyun is forced to lean closer to hear Doyoung.

“I never knew my family,” Doyoung nearly shouts. “I was raised in an orphanage. I was lucky I even got to school and to college.”

 _You had a family, once,_ Jaehyun thinks, because they’d been listed in Doyoung’s file. Granted, they’d all been alive in the early 20th century. But they’d existed. Jaehyun guesses upper management was too lazy to construct a whole new family for Doyoung each time they wiped his memory.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, and he really means it.

Doyoung’s lips thin. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not,” Jaehyun replies immediately, and after a second of debate, puts his hand on Doyoung’s knee, forcing eye contact. “I’m _not._ I’m just saying that I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

Doyoung lets out a forceful breath, and an apologetic expression flickers across his face. The heat of his leg bleeds through his jeans and collects in Jaehyun’s palm. Something magnetizes between them, and Jaehyun is frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.

“This is a pretty intense conversation to be having here,” Doyoung points out at last, and Jaehyun laughs, sitting back and removing his hand. Around them, everyone is drinking and dancing, and Johnny does a comically terrible dance along to Ten’s equally-as-terrible ad-libbing.

“Let’s go outside,” Jaehyun offers. “I need some fresh air anyway.”

Together, they leave the karaoke room and head outside, where the sudden lack of noise and heat is almost dizzying. The streetlights have come on, and the sky is dark with clouds.

“Looks like rain,” Jaehyun says. Doyoung wraps his arms around himself and leans against the wall of the karaoke place.

“Smells like spring,” Doyoung adds. “I can’t believe it’s already March.”

“Oh, is it?” Jaehyun asks, surprised. He pulls out his phone, and sure enough, it’s March. He’d completely missed the jump from February to March, too busy drowning in work. “I’ve been so busy. It feels like I’ve been awake since the beginning of the year.”

Doyoung looks over at him. “Are you alright, Jaehyun?”

The question takes Jaehyun completely by surprise, and it takes him a second to regain his composure. “What?”

Doyoung shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You looked frustrated. Or maybe…upset?”

“I didn’t—I thought—” Jaehyun stutters, feeling like someone’s knocked him off his feet. And Doyoung is still looking at him, arms crossed, looking a little bemused. “How did you know?”

“You’re easy to read,” Doyoung says simply. “And I was just paying attention.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to say something else—something, _anything_ —but his phone decides to ring at that exact moment, startling them both. It’s someone from the office, which means it’s probably urgent.

Jaehyun steps away, holding up his phone apologetically. “I have to take this. It’s work.”

“At this time?” Doyoung asks, but he doesn’t sound upset. “I’ll wait here.”

Jaehyun nods, and picks up the phone call. “Hello?”

“Jaehyun-ssi,” the person on the other end sighs in relief. “Hi, it’s Lee Song-i, from Gwangju?”

“Oh, Song-i,” Jaehyun says. “What’s the problem?”

Song-i immediately starts talking at the speed of light, talking about how she’s been caught, how a match has caught on that they’re being pushed around, and that they only really like each other when she’s making it so. She sounds near-hysterical as she rambles, and Jaehyun takes a couple minutes to calm her down and assure her that nobody’s going to fire her or be mad at her.

“It’s okay to make mistakes,” Jaehyun says, “Because you’re—”

He stops himself here, clenching his jaw. He’d almost said _because you’re human._ But she’s not. And neither is he.

Behind him, he can hear Doyoung’s voice. A check over his shoulder confirms that it’s Jungwoo, just as he’d asked. But the conversation, if how loudly they’re speaking, is not going well.

On the other end of the phone, Song-i begins to cry. On the sidewalk in front of him, Jungwoo reaches for Doyoung, who stumbles back away from him.

“Listen, Song-i, you’re going to be fine,” Jaehyun says, eyes fixed on Doyoung. “Send the file my way and I’ll make sure upper management doesn’t come after you. We’ll fix it, okay?”

“You broke my heart!” Doyoung shouts, and Jaehyun doesn’t even process Song-i’s reply, doesn’t even hear it—he hangs up and jogs back over to Doyoung and Jungwoo. Both of them look like they’re on the verge of shattering. Doyoung’s eyes shine with tears, and Jungwoo looks lost, impossibly so.

“Jungwoo,” Jaehyun says, and Jungwoo waves despondently. “What are you doing here?”

“I work down the street,” Jungwoo says, miserable. “There was a problem with the computers, and I had to stay late and fix it.”

Jaehyun tries not to feel too guilty at the exhaustion in his voice. _Probably my fault,_ he thinks anyway, and steps closer to Doyoung.

“I’m sorry for shouting, Jungwoo,” Doyoung mutters, eyes cast downwards. “But I’m not sorry for what I said. Because it’s true. You ruined me.”

Jaehyun shifts on his feet. “Do you guys—do you want me to go?”

Jungwoo opens his mouth, but Doyoung cuts in, sharp. “No.”

“Come on, hyung, don’t be like this,” Jungwoo says. “Listen—”

“We already had this conversation, Jungwoo-yah,” Doyoung says. “Just…we’re only going to end up hurting each other.”

Jungwoo swallows. “I know.”

“You should go,” Doyoung adds, quietly.

“Okay,” Jungwoo says, and turns on his heel, slipping away into the darkness.

“Doyoung?” Jaehyun asks after a moment, clearing his throat. “Do you—”

“You should go too,” Doyoung tells him. “You don’t need to deal with all this shit.”

“If you want me to, I will,” Jaehyun says. “If that’s what you need.”

Doyoung nods. “It is.”

“Let me give you my number, at least,” Jaehyun says, pulling out a pen and grabbing Doyoung’s hand. “Just in case, you, uh, need anything.”

Doyoung lets Jaehyun scribble his number on his palm. “Put it in your phone when you have time,” Jaehyun insists, and Doyoung nods. He’s started to go fuzzy around the edges as rain begins to fall softly.

“Thanks,” Doyoung says. Jaehyun hesitates for a moment, wondering if he’ll say anything else. But he doesn’t, and there’s a strange ache in his heart as he walks away, leaving Doyoung to stand in the rain and cry alone.

 

* * *

 

He puts in a formal request to upper management early next week. _Please keep Kun and Doyoung close, and end the random-chance encounters between him and I. I’m going to go ahead and set the two of them up._

He gets an email response at the end of the day, just as he’s packing up to go home.

 _Dear Jaehyun,_ it starts, _thank you for all your work thus far. We’re pleased to hear that you’ve decided on a match. We will leave things up to you from now on._

There’s no signature, and it’s straight to the point. Jaehyun takes comfort in it, because he’s been feeling weird ever since Friday night. The conversations with both Doyoung and Taeyong’s grandma have left him oddly unsteady, and his mind races too quickly at nights now, trying to piece things together. He refuses to acknowledge any of the little things, the whispered curiosities and probing questions that hover in the back of his mind, begging to be brought to light and picked apart.

Sleep takes a while to come these days, and that night, it’s particularly bad. He tosses and turns in his bed, the room stiflingly quiet and too dark. When he does fall asleep, however, he’s chased by dreams, half-baked and hazy. In the morning, he feels like complete and utter shit and can’t remember any of them, and he’s irritated as he washes his face and gets dressed for work. He’s so annoyed that he forgets a tie and realizes he’s wearing _jeans_ instead of dress pants, but by this point he’s already standing in front of his office building and it’s far too late to go back and change.

Jaehyun takes a deep, steadying breath through his nose, and just as he’s about to go in, his phone buzzes. It’s an unfamiliar number, and the message simply says _turn around._

Jaehyun does, and can’t even be surprised when he sees Doyoung across the street, wearing a pink shirt and a denim jacket, smiling slightly. His hair is nearly blue in the sunlight, and he looks a hundred thousand times better than he did last Friday. Jaehyun’s heart stops, and he feels like he’s going to vomit, or pass out. Or maybe both.

What the _fuck_ is happening to him?

“Hi,” Doyoung greets as soon as he gets across the street. “I didn’t know you worked in Yeouido.”

“Um, yeah,” Jaehyun says, shifting on his feet. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Much better,” Doyoung reaffirms. “I talked some things through with Taeil over the weekend, and now I’m all good.” He checks his watch. “Shit, I’m late. Can I see you later, though?”

Jaehyun blinks at him. “Um, I’m pretty busy—”

“I’ll text you,” Doyoung interrupts, and shoots him a small smile. “Have a good day, Jaehyun.”

Then he’s off, and Jaehyun stands there, feeling like he’s just been hit in the stomach.

What’s worse is that it happens again the next day, too. Jaehyun’s coming back after meeting Song-i for lunch—he’d given her a corrected version of the file, and they’d talked through a solution—and Doyoung, _somehow,_ walks into the coffee shop Jaehyun had stopped at _by chance_ because he’d been feeling sleepy.

“You didn’t even have to text me,” Jaehyun says weakly when Doyoung spots him, waving him over to his table. “Look at that. Chance encounters.”

“Chance encounters, huh,” Doyoung muses, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know how much I buy that.”

“You should,” Jaehyun mutters. “But not because they’re romantic, or because you believe in fate.”

“Then why?” Doyoung asks, looking bemused.

“Because there’s a great big Something up there,” Jaehyun says, feeling exhausted, “with a shitty sense of humor.”

“And it thinks us meeting every day is funny?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jaehyun says. “It’s probably the most amusement it’s had all century. Besides Mark and Donghyuck.”

Doyoung frowns slightly. “Mark and Donghyuck? As in, Lee Mark and Lee Donghyuck? The ones in Canada? They’re dating?”

Jaehyun mentally slaps himself for the slip-up. “Yep. Don’t ask how I know them, please, I’m so tired.”  

Doyoung looks at him for a long moment before he starts laughing, something that startles them both. “I’m so glad I was wrong about you,” Doyoung says, and Jaehyun’s heart stops again, just like it did when he saw Doyoung yesterday. “Thank god for second chances, right?”

“Right,” Jaehyun says, remembering Taeyong’s grandmother’s words and feeling a bit cold. “Thank god.”

They talk a little more. Doyoung opens up a bit more about his past, talks about meeting his friends and believing that family can be found. Jaehyun talks about work, about how tired he is, about how nothing really goes right for him but he tries anyway. By the end of it, Jaehyun has laughed enough that his stomach hurts, but there’s an odd lightness to him, like a weight’s been taken off his chest, at least temporarily.

“That was really nice,” Doyoung says as they leave the cafe. “Thanks for coming by.”

It’s a perfectly fine time to say goodbye, and leaving now would be acceptable, expected even. But they both linger, and the way Doyoung looks at Jaehyun is tangible, warmer than the sun on his cheeks and more electric than the taste of lightning in the air.

Doyoung opens his mouth, and then closes it again, clearly losing courage.

“I’ll text you,” Jaehyun promises in an attempt to ease the awkwardness and fill the silence. It works, clearly, because all conflict disappears from Doyoung’s face, replaced by relief.

“I’d like that,” Doyoung says.

So he texts Doyoung when he gets off of work, and doesn’t stop texting him until he collapses into bed that night, where he sleeps slightly better than he has all week. Maybe this was management’s way of saying _thank you_ before they cut off all chance-encounters with Doyoung. The thought comforts Jaehyun, and it feels nice to be appreciated, if only once. When he wakes up that morning, he feels ten times better and infinitely more refreshed, ready to go to work and wrap Doyoung’s case up once and for all. Management’s sent him an email, too, telling him they’ve fulfilled his request and they look forward to seeing the resolution of the match.

He’s making his way from work to the parking garage—he let himself off early today, since he’d finished his paperwork fast—when he bumps into someone and drops his phone with a clatter.

Jaehyun looks up, about to get mad, but it’s Doyoung.

Wait a second, no it’s not. He scrubs at his eyes for a second and then looks again.

“Hi, Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, sounding amused. Jaehyun briefly wonders if he’s dreaming, but Doyoung isn’t budging. This is, somehow, occurring in real life.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jaehyun hisses. “Of course, the _one time_ I take a different route—”

“Honestly, I was wondering when I’d run into you today,” Doyoung says, and Jaehyun can’t be annoyed when Doyoung looks at him like that, soft around the edges, bitterness tucked away for the time being. It makes Jaehyun feel like he’s dissolving, like he’s coming apart at the seams.

For the third time this week, he wonders what’s wrong with him. And what’s wrong with everything else, too. _Why_ is this happening? Why does he keep running into Doyoung? He’s absolutely _positive_ he sent in a request. He was very clear with the instructions, too. There’s no reason any of this should be possible.

“I was just on my way to see Ten,” Jaehyun says, making a decision. “I’m headed to my car.” He tells Doyoung the location of the parking garage, who nods.

“I’m headed that way too,” Doyoung says. “My dentist is over there.”

 _Of course you are, and of course she is,_ Jaehyun thinks. So he and Doyoung walk together, and it feels all very familiar and friendly, and Jaehyun doesn’t let himself think about anything, especially not how he seems to know when Doyoung’s going to scowl and snap at him, or when he’s going to smile and agree.

 _When did I begin to know him?_ Jaehyun thinks in the back of his head, worried and amazed and confused all at once. _When did that start? Why? Why him? Why_ me?

 _You have a job to do,_ Taeyong’s grandma answers. _You aren’t human. He is._

Doyoung says goodbye to him at the garage with his usual small smile and wave, and Jaehyun is endeared before he can stop himself. He spends the next ten minutes practicing deep breathing in his car, trying to bring himself back from the edge of a terrifying realization and back into the safe comfort of everything he knows.

_I have a job to do. Doyoung is human, I am not. I know the threads of fate. They know me. I have power. This is fine. This is in my control. I can do this._

At his store, Ten has his feet kicked up on the counter, face hidden by a book. He’s wearing a baseball hat today, and his glasses, which he takes off as soon as Jaehyun starts asking the heavy questions.

“So anyway, this whole thing is absolutely _absurd,_ and I don’t have any fucking idea as to why or how it’s happening,” Jaehyun groans, setting his forehead down on the edge of the desk. “I want things to go back to normal.”

“That’s not how it works,” Ten sing-songs, propping his chin in his hands. “You know that.”

“I know, and it’s pissing me off.”

“Everything happens for a reason,” Ten says mysteriously, and Jaehyun sits upright, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t give me that,” Jaehyun says. “I want an answer. A real one.”

“I can’t tell the future,” Ten shrugs. “If you don’t know the answer yet, then I don’t either.”

Jaehyun fumes silently for a moment, but knows Ten’s technically right. He can only answer little questions, or tell people what they already know, deep down.

“You’re no help,” Jaehyun informs Ten. “I hope you know that.”

“You tell me that every single time you come by,” Ten reminds him. “I’m very aware.”

Jaehyun heaves a massive sigh, more confused than ever. “I just want to understand _why._ ”

“You will,” Ten insists. “I know that for sure. But these things take time. And sometimes paths that you don’t expect.” He winks at Jaehyun. “In your case, though, I think it’s been a long time coming.”

“What does that mean?” Jaehyun demands, but Ten mimes zipping his lips, a mischievous look on his face.

“You’ll find out,” he says, and that, apparently, is that.

 

* * *

 

Ten may not be helpful, but he is incredibly good at planting annoying little thoughts in Jaehyun’s head that eat away at his patience and energy. Work, today, is also especially rough—Jaehyun spends most of it sitting in front of his computer, Doyoung’s file pulled up, wondering how he can actually tie up any loose ends now that he seems to be involved. He goes through endless pages of notes, stacks of paperwork, paging through all of Doyoung’s friends’ files for something that isn’t a cold, hard, dead-end.

But there’s nothing, and Jaehyun can feel the hope leaching out of him bit by bit as the sun inches closer to the horizon. He rubs his hands over his face, feeling frustrated and desperate. He sort of wants to cry, but it’s been so long since he’s felt anything on this great of a scale that he thinks it’s just his brain telling him it can’t take much more of this.

And then Doyoung texts him:

_hey pretty sure you’re stressed as hell rn so you should come over and have a drink_

And Jaehyun is too weak, too tired, to do anything but read it and respond with a _yes._

He’s really come full circle, he thinks to himself as he presses the buzzer for Doyoung’s apartment. He can remember almost a full three weeks ago when he was standing here on a colder night, filled with irritation and thinking that he’d just go in, set things up, and get out. And now he’s back, but instead of Taeil opening the door it’s Doyoung, wearing a hoodie and looking unfairly attractive.

Jaehyun might pass out.

Doyoung talks to him, clearly noticing Jaehyun’s strange, stony silence but deciding to ignore it for now. He brushes past it, pouring Jaehyun a glass of wine and leading him to the couch. Music plays softly from Doyoung’s open laptop, and the setting sun filters through the slats of the blinds, casting the room in an orange-gold glow. Papers are scattered all over the table, Doyoung’s scrawling writing covering them.  

“I’m thinking of going back to school,” Doyoung says, following Jaehyun’s gaze. “Remember when we talked about being miserable?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s part of the reason I ended up getting along with you so well,” Doyoung says, leaning back into the cushions and drawing his leg up under him. “We’re both pretty miserable people.”

Jaehyun takes a sip of his wine, but he knows his ears are pink. “Maybe,” he says quietly.

Doyoung continues. “Anyway, I want to go to art school. And I think I’ve saved up enough to go for it.”

“Art school,” Jaehyun repeats, and Doyoung nods slowly, tensing in case he needs to defend himself. “Doyoung, that’s amazing.”

“Oh,” Doyoung says, relaxing. “You think so?”

“I do,” Jaehyun replies. “Honestly, work has been stressing me out so much that I wish I had something new to focus on, too.”

“Spring is in the air,” Doyoung muses. “People want change. Or hands to hold.” The last bit is directed at Jaehyun, and Doyoung’s eyes flicker over him, mouth quirking. “Don’t you think?”

Jaehyun starts to sweat, just a little bit, and he sets his wine down so he can shoulder out of his suit jacket. “Sure,” he agrees, voice neutral. In a way, Doyoung has a point—spring is good matchmaking season.

“Anyway,” Doyoung says, also setting his wine on the coffee table, “tell me why you’re stressed.”

So Jaehyun does, being as vague as he can while still giving Doyoung the whole story. Doyoung listens carefully, and just as Jaehyun’s about to get to the part about Doyoung himself, he stops, breaking eye contact with Doyoung before he can continue.

“And I’ve been feeling off-balance too,” Jaehyun says, strangely nervous. “Because something happened to me, and I don’t think it was supposed to, but I can’t help but feel…”

He looks back up at Doyoung, who’s still watching him closely. Jaehyun’s gaze skitters over his face, over the shape of his mouth, down his throat, and back up again.

His mouth is very, very dry.

Doyoung prompts him, “feel what?”

“Feel like it’s right,” Jaehyun says, and it’s almost a whisper. “Like maybe I should ignore literally everything and every part of me and let it happen.”

“Maybe you should,” Doyoung whispers, smiling a little. He is close, so close. Their knees brush, and Jaehyun puts his hand on Doyoung’s thigh—to steady, to reassure, to remind himself that this is indeed real life. Doyoung looks down at Jaehyun’s hand, then back up again, and his eyes are impossibly dark and liquid.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaehyun breathes, and his heart stops in his chest hearing himself say that, and then explodes when Doyoung exhales and nods.

It’s tentative at first, just dry lips and careful hands. Doyoung presses in close before pulling away, eyes flickering over Jaehyun’s face like he’s double-checking something. But before Jaehyun can ask what’s wrong, they’re kissing again, and Doyoung puts a hand on Jaehyun’s hip. And it’s perfect, electric, too big and too small all at once. But mostly it’s inevitable, the way that Doyoung licks into Jaehyun’s mouth and tugs on his bottom lip. And how Jaehyun’s fingers find the skin underneath Doyoung’s hoodie, feverishly warm, and the way things go from hot to searing, like the slow press of their tongues or the way Doyoung slings a leg over Jaehyun and slides into his lap. It’s in the way they align perfectly, so perfectly, and the way that Doyoung kisses long and slow, slow, slow, like they have all the time in the world. Jaehyun feels sparks dance down his spine, and Doyoung peels off their shirts and he swears he can feel Doyoung’s heartbeat in his own chest. Arousal pools low in his stomach, making his knees weak and his bones feel like glass, and Doyoung grinds down hard, with purpose, and inhales the sound Jaehyun makes like he’ll keep it forever.

Jaehyun doesn’t think he really has a problem with that. He gets the feeling he’d gladly let Doyoung keep any part of him for as long as he’d like.

“Not going to last,” Jaehyun huffs, sweat-slicked and feeling like he’s swallowed a hundred hot coals. “So unless—”

“Yes,” Doyoung breathes, kissing Jaehyun’s bottom lip and then his chin. “You don’t—I’ve been wanting this _forever_ —”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, wrapping his arms around Doyoung’s waist. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I still don’t really know—”

“It’s okay,” Doyoung reassures him swiftly. “I’d wait a hundred more years. And even if you didn’t want to touch me—even if you just wanted to sit and talk about stupid things, I’d do that too.”

Jaehyun feels things short-circuit, unable to compute, happy enough to burst and sad enough to sob. Nothing makes sense—he’s so confused—but everything is also crystal clear, like it’s been in front of him the whole time and he’s only now understanding.

Doyoung has to see this in his face—he _must,_ because he kisses Jaehyun so hard he feels it in his soul.

Somehow, by some miracle, they make it to the bed. Doyoung slowly undresses Jaehyun, who doesn’t have time to feel too self-conscious, because as soon as his pants are off Doyoung kisses him all over a hundred times and tells him that this is maybe the happiest he’s been in his whole life. And Jaehyun believes him, and maybe thinks this is the happiest he’s ever been, too.

After, when Doyoung’s stripped the top sheet off and they’re lying together, fit against each other so closely that Jaehyun can’t tell where he starts and where Doyoung ends, Doyoung tenderly brushes the hair off his forehead and kisses his cheek so gently it nearly breaks Jaehyun’s heart.

“I’m glad I gave you a second chance,” Doyoung murmurs. “You’re incredible, Jung Jaehyun. And I’m glad your Big Something told us to try again.”

Jaehyun’s chest constricts very suddenly, and the urge to cry is back, twice as intense. He is feeling so many things at once, crashing against his mind like waves breaking on the sand. Salty, warm, and unstoppable. It’s overwhelming, and Jaehyun wonders if this is what drowning feels like. It’s sort of nice, in a weird, heart-stopping way.

“Hold on,” Jaehyun chokes out, clutching Doyoung tighter. “Can’t, uh, really breathe.”

“I’ve got you,” Doyoung says quietly, kissing down Jaehyun’s neck and across his collarbones.

“Distract me,” Jaehyun says, closing his eyes and breathing deep.

“Mm.” Doyoung pauses for a moment, mouth against Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I talked to Jungwoo, finally.”

Jaehyun nods.

“And we cleared the air. I don’t think he loved me like I needed him to for a long, long time. And maybe I didn’t love him in the way he needed, either.” Doyoung strokes a hand down Jaehyun’s side, palm warm. “But it worked out for the best, in the end. He wanted to get back together, but I said I’d met you.”

Jaehyun squeezes his eyes tighter, fighting back tears.

“Jungwoo told me he’d suspected that. Apparently, he’d seen the way we’d looked at each other, all the way in the beginning.”

 _I am not going to cry,_ Jaehyun tells himself.

“And now we’re here,” Doyoung says gently. A beat of silence, then, “and if you ever mention this conversation ever again, I’m going to kill you.”

Jaehyun opens his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning. “What would we do if the world knew how much of a softie you were?”

Doyoung glares at Jaehyun. “And what if everyone knew you were secretly a romantic?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Absolutely,” Doyoung says matter-of-factly. Jaehyun laughs, and Doyoung kisses him again.

“In all seriousness, though,” Jaehyun continues after they part. “Do you mean it?”

Doyoung’s forehead creases. “Of course. Why?”

 _Because it complicates everything,_ Jaehyun thinks. “No reason. Nobody’s ever said that to me before, is all.”

“Nobody’s told you they’ve loved you?” Doyoung asks, surprised. “Not any of your past boyfriends?”

“No,” Jaehyun says. And somehow, he knows it’s true, despite having no memory of being human. “Just you.”

Doyoung stares at him for a moment, and something between affection and awe softens his features. He leans down to kiss Jaehyun again, and Jaehyun can feel Doyoung’s smile against his mouth.

“Oh god,” Doyoung says quietly. “I’m so glad that you’re in my life.”

Something about these words clicks in Jaehyun’s brain, but he’s too tired, too sated, to worry about it now. Instead, he lets pull Doyoung him closer, and for the first time in a while, sleeps without waking.

 

* * *

 

The threads of the universe tangle.

Jaehyun wakes up the next morning with the sun on his face and an arm over his waist. Doyoung is still asleep next to him, breathing softly, face pressed against Jaehyun’s shoulder. And just like that, everything falls into place: it’s _him._ Jaehyun himself.

The endless coincidences. How none of Doyoung’s friends worked. How things _fit_ between them. How they go together so well despite it all—how Doyoung is everything Jaehyun’s needed. And how Doyoung goes soft around the corners and how Jaehyun feels like the sun’s in his chest when he watches Doyoung smile. It’s warm, and comforting, and singing with promise.

Jaehyun lets out a half-breath, the wind knocked out of him.  

He hasn’t been able to find Doyoung’s soulmate because it’s been him all along.

The anger is immediate, a gasoline flame.

Because goddamn, does that absolutely _piss_ Jaehyun off. He’s worked his _ass_ off for _years,_ setting people up, and he was forced into this stupid case and he’s been so stressed about it for _nothing,_ all because some fucking _Big Something_ just thinks it’s so clever, ruining his whole life by tricking him into carving a place out for Doyoung.

What’s even worse is that it worked. Jaehyun looks down at Doyoung and even in all his fury and white-hot rage, he feels nothing but affection. There’s no part of him that can hate Doyoung, that could ever hate him. It wasn’t even his fault. He was a pawn in this, same as Jaehyun.

 _Is it even real, then?_ Jaehyun thinks, and panic starts to blur the corners of his vision. _How can it be, if it was just a series of set-ups?_

Jaehyun flies to his feet, so violently that Doyoung stirs, lifting his head from the mattress and rubbing his eyes. “Jaehyun-ah,” he mumbles sleepily, and Jaehyun decisively ignores the honorific. “What’s wrong? Isn’t it too early to be upset?”

“I have to go to work,” Jaehyun says tersely, and his tone is what gets Doyoung’s attention. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung repeats, but Jaehyun doesn’t answer, pulling on his clothing as fast as he can. He has no idea where his shirt is, or jacket, so he grabs Doyoung’s hoodie, discarded on the ground, and a denim jacket draped over the back of Doyoung’s desk chair.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, catching Jaehyun’s wrist before he can make a break for it. “You can’t just take my clothes and leave. Tell me what’s going on.”

Jaehyun looks down at Doyoung, kneeling on the bed, tangled in the sheets. There’s a bruise in the hollow of his collarbone, red and purple. There’s an intensely worried look in his eyes, and all of a sudden, Jaehyun’s terrified of hurting him and shattering the vulnerable expression on his face so he says, “things have very suddenly gone to shit, and I need to fix it.”

Doyoung’s face falls. “Is it because of me?”

“No,” Jaehyun says. “It’s not. But I can’t—I can’t stay here, I can’t be with you, until I get some things sorted out.”

Doyoung’s expression shutters. “Oh.”

Jaehyun winces. He knows it’s a shitty explanation, and not the thing he needed to say—but it’s all he can do for the moment. “I’m sorry,” he says, and grabs Doyoung’s hand, squeezing it tightly before he’s bursting out of Doyoung’s room. Taeil’s in the kitchen, making coffee, and does not seem surprised in the least to see Jaehyun, only hands him a travel mug and tells him to come back.

Jaehyun drinks the coffee black, and it scalds his tongue and burns his throat, bitter, and does nothing but wake his anger all the way up. He gets honked at as he speeds down the expressway, weaving through early-morning traffic. In a split-second decision, he decides to see Ten first, hopes maybe he can cool his temper before he goes and sets fire to his office building.  

The shop isn’t even open yet, but Johnny’s in there and the lights are on, so Jaehyun barges in, the bell dinging violently. Johnny looks up, startled. “Whoa, Jaehyun, what’s wrong?”

“Where’s Ten?” Jaehyun gets out through gritted teeth.

“Right here,” Ten says calmly, walking out from the back room with a box in his arms. “How was your night?”

“You _knew,_ ” Jaehyun snaps, crossing his arms. “From the beginning.”

Ten nods at Johnny, but Jaehyun’s too fed-up to really care. He tells Ten that, too. Ten crosses his arms, looking annoyingly collected, and maybe even a little amused.

“I don’t know why you’re throwing a temper tantrum,” Ten says. “I can see you falling in love, Jaehyun, and it’s been _so_ good for you.”

Jaehyun throws his hands up, ignoring the way his heart speeds. “That’s not the point, Ten, and you know it.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun starts sarcastically, “the fact that I was set up? That I put in all kinds of work only to find out it was for nothing? My own bosses lying to me? The actual _universe_ playing some sort of trick on me?”

“The way I see it,” Ten says seriously, “it was looking out for you.”

“By setting me up with a human.”

“Yes.”

“That I was supposed to match to literally _anyone else_.”

“Yes.”

Jaehyun gives Ten a flat look. “You do realize your point makes no sense, right?”

Ten shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I really honestly don’t have any solutions for you. You didn’t come here with questions, because you already know the answer.”

With a sinking feeling, Jaehyun realizes he does. He knows exactly what he needs to do, and what he needs to hear. His fury fades, just a little. Enough for him to be honest. “Okay, so, maybe I’m a little afraid. Hypothetically speaking.”

“You better be a little terrified,” Ten says, “because it’s the whole universe. Literally.”

“Ten—”

“Okay, okay, fine. There’s no reason to be afraid, Jaehyun. It’s really, really fond of you.”

Jaehyun bites the inside of his cheek. Once again, as always, Ten has a point.

“Uh,” Johnny says, looking between the two of them, “excuse me, but _what?”_

Ten makes a shooing motion at Jaehyun. “The universe works in ways we don’t understand,” he says, “but just know—it’s looking out for you too.”

Jaehyun digests this, and then nods. “Okay. Alright. I’m going.”

“Good,” Ten says, and Jaehyun makes a beeline for the door. As he leaves, he overhears the beginning of Johnny and Ten’s conversation—

“Okay, so, I’ll start from the beginning. First off, I’m an all-knowing being tasked with guiding the romantically confused, and Jaehyun’s an immortal matchmaker.”

“ _WHAT—”_

The door closes behind Jaehyun, and he gets back in his car, heading towards the office. He’s a little late, he knows, but he gets the feeling everyone already knows what’s going to happen. Thinks maybe it was a long time coming—maybe since he woke up achingly lonely, wrapped himself in disdain and self-deprecation and dragged himself to work.

He scans his pass and takes the elevator up—all the way up, to the top floor. It’s a button he hasn’t noticed before, hasn’t _needed_ to notice before, and it says nothing except _UPPER._

His heart beats heavily in his throat, and nervousness makes his hands sweat. The majority of his anger has faded, leaving some determination but mostly exhaustion. Something inside of him just wants this to all be over so he can climb back into bed with Doyoung and go back to pretending like he has a chance at being human.  

Once again, he hears Taeyong’s grandma. Maybe her warning wasn’t just for Ten, Jaehyun thinks, but him too. Before he even knew it was possible for him to start falling in love.

The elevator dings brightly, and the doors slide open.

Jaehyun squints, momentarily blinded by the light streaming in through the massive windows. Somewhere, music is playing, quiet and low-key. It eases some of the tension from Jaehyun’s shoulders. In the center of the room, there’s a massive wooden desk, covered in papers and open books. There’s a couch against one wall, and two bookshelves filled mostly with picture frames.

“Hello?” Jaehyun calls, gingerly stepping out of the elevator and into the room. “It’s, um, Jung Jaehyun.”

“Jaehyun,” a voice says, and Jaehyun squints back into the light. “Come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”

A figure starts to take shape slowly, fuzzy around the edges. Jaehyun rubs his eyes, and then there’s a woman standing in front of him, hair short and dark, nearly as tall as he is. He takes another step forward, and more of her features form—she’s wearing a knit cardigan, and no shoes. Her eyes are brown, and there are smile lines around her mouth. She is at once achingly familiar and unrecognizable, and Jaehyun feels a wave of unidentifiable emotion sweep over him.

“It’s you,” he says. “You’re—you’re the universe. The something. You’re the Big Something.”

“Yes,” she replies, and it sounds a little sad. “Not so big, right? Actually sort of small.”

“I’m still upset at you,” he tells her. “I don’t know why you did it. I hope it wasn’t out of pity, because I was doing just fine before Doyoung. You know that.”

She sighs. “How about we sit down, Jaehyun-ah.” She takes a seat at the desk, and nods at the chair next to her own.

Jaehyun sits, balling his hands into fists on his knees. “I want answers.”

“And you’ll get them,” she says gently. “But first, a story.”

“I don’t—”

“Listen,” she urges, and there’s a tug in his chest. Jaehyun snaps his mouth shut, simmering. “I only have power over myself,” she starts, “and over the threads. I don’t do anything about feelings, or words. I only guide, and suggest.” She picks up one of Jaehyun’s hands, and Jaehyun lets her uncurl his fingers. “All I do, and all I’ve ever done, is find people—ordinary, happy-sad, beautiful, whole and broken—and I say to you, _maybe they need someone like this in their life._ And then you tug a string here and there, and that person walks in, and my job is complete.” She squeezes Jaehyun’s hand, and taps underneath his chin so their eyes meet. “I love you very, very much,” she says, and there are tears in her eyes. “And you may have stopped believing in your own humanity, but I did not. You were human before and you are human now, and that is why you’re such a good matchmaker.” She presses the fingers of her free hand to his chest. “I look out for lonely hearts, my dear, and yours was particularly sad.”

Jaehyun’s eyes prick with tears, and he sniffs hard.

“It’s not like it was you and Doyoung all along, from the beginning, just like it was Mark and Donghyuck all along,” she explains. “It was just that Donghyuck consistently happens to _be_ the exact kind of person that Mark always needs. With people like that, it’s just simpler to keep them together.”

“So you're saying that I needed someone like Doyoung?”

She nods, smiling. “And he needed someone like you.”

Jaehyun suddenly feels very very young, and he’s unable to catch all the tears that leak from his eyes. “But how am I supposed to know what to do next?

“You’re not,” she says simply.

Jaehyun thinks about this for a moment, and decides he’s okay with that answer. “I guess I should go back to Doyoung now, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably. He’s waiting for you.”

“And I have a choice to make?”

“You do. But it’s your choice. Nobody else’s.”

Jaehyun stands, and she squeezes his hand again. “You deserve all the love this life will bring,” she tells him. “Remember that, Jaehyun.”

 

* * *

 

He makes it back to Doyoung’s apartment. Doyoung is curled up on the couch, half-asleep but clearly waiting for him, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt that doesn’t fit him quite right. When he sees Jaehyun in the doorway, he stands so quickly he nearly falls. Jaehyun crosses over to him, and neither of them need to say a word—Doyoung sees the tear tracks on Jaehyun’s cheeks and Jaehyun can read the raw vulnerability on Doyoung’s face. So Doyoung wraps Jaehyun up in his arms and hugs him tightly, grounding him, whispering things like _don’t ever do that again_ and _are you alright_ and _will you stay, please._ And Jaehyun answers back, equally as quiet, with _I’m sorry, I’m okay,_ and _yes, please let me stay._

And in that moment, standing there, breathing Doyoung in, Jaehyun feels like the universe has made itself small, just for them, just for this.

There’s a gentle press on his back, some sort of silent, cosmic reassurance—or maybe one tiny, final gesture of love.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Jaehyun does on Friday morning is go to Taeyong’s house. He owes his best friend an explanation. And maybe part of him wants to tell Taeyong’s grandma that she’s not as wise as she thinks, and that everyone is wrong about some things.

He rings the doorbell, hoping that Taeyong isn’t out. The door is opened by Taeyong’s father, who’s wearing an apron and kimchi-stained gloves. “Taeyong!” He shouts back into the house. “Your friend is here!”

He tells Taeyong the whole story at the dining room table while people bustle around him, offering food or bits of kimchi to try. Taeyong listens to the whole story without interruption, and at the end, he pats Jaehyun’s hand and tells him he knew from the very beginning.

“Ten can’t keep a secret, remember?” Taeyong says, amused, while Jaehyun silently fumes and plots the best way he can kill Ten without upsetting Johnny too much. “I knew before you told me about it. I didn’t call you on your lie because I knew you’d feel better.”

Jaehyun huffs. “Thanks, Taeyong.” It’s sarcastic, but Taeyong smiles anyway.

“Of course,” Taeyong says, and then focuses on someone over Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Oh, Grandma.”

Jaehyun turns around to see the woman herself, standing in the doorway, lips pursed. “Jung Jaehyun,” she says. “I see you didn’t take any of my advice.”

“It wasn’t very good advice,” Jaehyun says, honest and polite as he can muster. Her nostrils flare, and Taeyong’s eyes go wide. “No offense to your other, much better advice in the past, of course.”

“You—”

“You may be my elder, _halmeoni,_ but there are just some things you’re wrong about. And love and being human is one of them.” Jaehyun stands, brushing his shirt off. He’s wearing Doyoung’s clothes and not a suit, for once, and it feels like the start of something big. “So if you don’t mind, you should probably apologize to Ten and Taeyong, even though they’ve both already forgiven you.”

Taeyong’s grandmother eyes him for a moment. “You speak disrespectfully, but I guess you’re not incorrect. I passed judgement on the three of you too quickly.”

“Grandma—” Taeyong starts, but she raises a stern hand.

“I apologize, Taeyong,” she says, and turns back to Jaehyun. “Tell your friend Ten, too.”

Jaehyun nods at the both of them. “I’m going there later.”

“Oh? What for?” Taeyong asks, eyebrows raising.

“Something I have to do after I stop by work,” Jaehyun says. “I’ll tell you later.”

“You better,” Taeyong calls as he heads for the door, “or I’ll just hear it from Ten!”

At work, Jaehyun doesn’t even bother going past the front desk, where Jun-hwi, bewildered, accepts the manila envelope Jaehyun hands him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s my resignation,” Jaehyun says, and Jun-hwi’s eyebrows draw together even more.

“Excuse…me?”

“I’m resigning,” Jaehyun repeats. “I wrote a letter to upper management and everything. I double-checked the employee handbook, too, and there’s nothing that’s stopping me from doing this.”

Jun-hwi glances at the mailbox labeled _TO UPPER MANAGEMENT_ and then back at Jaehyun. “Are you sure? Don’t you give up all of the benefits?”

Jaehyun thinks about Doyoung’s smile and the warmth of his hands. “I think it’s time. I’ve gotten all I can out of this job.”

“As soon as I put this in the mailbox, you’ll be done,” Jun-hwi warns. “You’ll start to forget about your life here.”

Jaehyun nods. “That’s okay.”

Jun-hwi gives him one last confused look, like it’s absolutely _crazy_ Jaehyun’s giving up immortality and immunity to the common cold and muscle soreness all for some _guy._

Jun-hwi sticks the envelope into the mailbox, where it disappears immediately. A warm, sweet-smelling wind rustles through the office, rifling papers.

Something big and heavy rushes into Jaehyun, making him a bit dizzy for a second. All at once, he’s aware of the soreness in his lower back, the headache building behind his eyes, and the empty, hungry feeling in his stomach. At the same time, something _huge_ shifts, snapping and pulling.

Jun-hwi looks up at Jaehyun, panicked. “What did you do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” Jaehyun says. “Something for a friend.”

His phone rings just as he steps out of the elevator for the last time. He picks up the call, grinning widely. “Hi, Ten. Perfect timing. Want to get lunch? I’m starving.”

 

* * *

 

“Let me get this straight,” Ten says slowly as Jaehyun shovels _tteokbokki_ into his mouth as fast as he can, “you told Taeyong’s grandma to fuck off, resigned from your job and—and resigned for me, too?”

Jaehyun nods, mouth too full to speak.

Ten’s eyes fill with tears, and it’s so unlike him that Jaehyun nearly chokes. “You didn’t have to.”

Jaehyun swallows with some difficulty. “No, I did. You and Johnny deserve a happy ending, too.” And before Ten can say anything, he adds, “and don’t think I did it for you, because you’re shitty and unhelpful. I did it for Johnny, because otherwise he’d go back to America and fall in love with a completely average woman and live a completely average life, and I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Ouch,” Ten says dryly, but later, he’ll hug Jaehyun so tightly his back pops.

“I guess I’ll have to be helpful now,” Ten comments, “since I’ll no longer have the answers to everything.”

“Thank god,” Jaehyun says. “That was incredibly annoying.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I guess we’re both gonna be human now, huh?”

“I think we already were.”

Ten snorts. “One talk with the universe and you think you’re some sort of philosopher. Gimme a break.”

Jaehyun shoves him. “I mean it, you idiot. You wouldn’t have fallen in love with Johnny if you weren’t.”

“Very true,” Ten concedes thoughtfully. “I guess you do have a point. Maybe this just means it’s the beginning, now.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, and decides he likes the sound of that. “The beginning.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of it goes like this:

Jaehyun falls in love, all the way, and Doyoung kisses him a hundred times over, late at night, and whispers _I love you_ back to him until Jaehyun can feel it in his very bones. They still fight a fair amount, but it never hurts, only stings, and they always find it in themselves to forgive each other. They fit against each other in a way that has to be more than coincidence—that Jaehyun somehow _knows_ is more than coincidence, but can no longer remember why, exactly, he’s so sure.

A year passes, and Doyoung goes back to school. Jaehyun finds a new job, more friends, and an apartment with one bedroom and a nice view of the sunset. It takes the two of them seemingly _forever_ to move into it, but when they do, they invite everyone over and drink until Doyoung falls asleep in the bathtub and Jaehyun has to haul him to bed.

He has his first birthday—not that he can remember _not_ having any birthdays, because his memory from _before_ has long since fogged over. It’s better this way, too, because he dreams and hopes and wonders and holds Doyoung’s hand when they walk in the rain and looks up at the sky when they take a trip to the country and thinks _wow, it’s big up there._

Good things happen to people all around him, enough that Doyoung laughs and calls him the universe’s favorite. It’s all suspiciously-timed chance encounters and people that march in exactly when they’re needed. Ten and Johnny get married in Canada, and Jaehyun gets to see Mark and Donghyuck, who he somehow knows but can’t say why. And while they’re there, South Korea conveniently announces that they’ll recognize same-sex marriages from other countries as legal.

Mark and Ten both cry a little when they hear the news. Later, Doyoung and Jaehyun will talk about it—about all the good things, timed perfectly like someone’s doing it by hand.

And like many things, Jaehyun doesn’t know why, anymore, but he tells Doyoung not to worry, because there’s a Big Something—or maybe just a something—up there, looking out for them, making sure their hearts don’t get too lonely.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

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